I 

SO 


3 


s 


Wp  J.  PL  pU  pbrarg 


^NtfriJj  (Earnlma  jliate  College 

QH81 


This  book  is  due  on  the  date  indicated 
below  and  is  subject  to  an  overdue 
fine  as  posted  at  the  circulation  desk. 


EXCEPTION:  Date  due  will  be 
earlier  if  this  item  is  RECALLED. 


2001 


200M/09-98-981815 


AT   THE   STUDY   ECOTl 


SDfjc  ftttoersise  Literature  Series 


BIRDS  AND  BEES 
SHARP  EYES 

AND  OTHER   PAPERS 

BY 

JOHN  BURROUGHS 
WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION 

BY 

MARY  E.  BURT 
AND  A   BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 


^eRfrergiacgregg 


BOSTON   NEW  YORK   CHICAGO    SAN  FRANCISCO 

HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 
CI)e  Ktocrmfce  l^xtm  Camfrutfg;e 


COPYRIGHT,    lS75,   1879,   iSSl,   1S86,   1903,    1907,   I909,   I9I4,   I917,   AND   I92I 

BY    JOHN    BURROUGHS 

ALL   RIGHTS   RESERVED 


CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
PRINTED  IN  THE  U.S.A. 


'  ***  ®*ate  College 


2Ctje  Ktoerstfee  Literature  £>m'e0 
BIRDS  AND  BEES 

BY 

JOHN   BURROUGHS 
WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION  BY  MARY  E.  BUR1 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Biographical  Sketch        ..••••••    ™ 

Introduction  by  Mary  E.  Burt     ••••••      3 

:  JBlRDS. 

Bird  Enemies     .•••*.»«.••        •? 

The  Tragedies  of  the  Neste        ->        s  ,        .,..21 

Bees. 
\/    An  Idyl  of  the  Honey-Bee         «•••••        «45 
The  Pastoral  Beea  «  *        «,        k;        •        »        r    66 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

Nature  chose  the  spring  of  the  year  for  the  time  of 
John  Burroughs's  birth.  A  little  before  the  day  when  the 
wake-robin  shows  itself,  that  the  observer  might  be  on  hand 
for  the  sight,  he  was  born  in  Roxbury,  Delaware  County, 
New  York,  on  the  western  borders  of  the  Catskill  Moun- 
tains; the  precise  date  was  April  3,  1837.  Until  1863  he 
remained  in  the  country  about  his  native  place,  working 
on  his  father's  farm,  getting  his  schooling  in  the  district 
school  and  neighboring  academies,  and  taking  his  turn  also 
as  teacher.  As  he  himself  has  hinted,  the  originality, 
freshness,  and  wholesomeness  of  his  writings  are  probably 
due  in  great  measure  to  the  unliterary  surroundings  of 
his  early  life,  which  allowed  his  mind  to  form  itself  on 
unconventional  lines,  and  to  the  later  companionships  with 
unlettered  men,  which  kept  him  in  touch  with  the  sturdy 
simplicities  of  life. 

From  the  very  beginnings  of  his  taste  for  literature,  the 
essay  was  his  favorite  form.  Dr.  Johnson  was  the  prophet 
of  his  youth,  but  he  soon  transferred  his  allegiance  to  Emer- 
son, who  for  many  years  remained  his  "  master  enchanter." 
To  cure  himself  of  too  close  an  imitation  of  the  Concord 
seer,  which  showed  itself  in  his  first  magazine  article,  Ua> 
pression,  he  took  to  writing  his  sketches  of  nature,  and 
about  this  time  he  fell  in  with  the  writings  of  Thoreau, 
which  doubtless  confirmed  and  encouraged  him  in  this 
direction.  But  of  all  authors  and  of  all  men,  Walt  Whit 
man,  in  his  personality  and  as  a  literary  force,  seems  tfl 
have  made  the  prof oundest  impression  upon  Mr.  Burroughs, 
though  doubtless  Emerson  had  a  greater  influence  on  his 
Style  of  writing. 

12693 


iv  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

Expression  appeared  in  The  Atlantic  Monthly  in  I860* 
£,nd  most  of  his  contributions  to  literature  have  been  in  the 
form  of  papers  first  published  in  the  magazines,  and  after- 
wards collected  into  books.  He  more  than  once  paid 
tribute  to  his  teachers  in  literature.  His  first  book,  now 
out  of  print,  was  Notes  on  Walt  Whitman,  as  Poet  and 
Person,  published  in  1867  ;  and  Whitman :  A  Study, 
which  appeared  in  1896,  is  a  more  extended  treatment  of 
the  man  and  his  poetry  and  philosophy.  Birds  and  Poets, 
too,  contains  a  paper  on  Whitman,  entitled  The  Flight  of 
the  Eagle,  besides  an  essay  on  Emerson,  whom  he  also 
treated  incidentally  in  his  paper,  Matthew  Arnold  on 
Emerson  and  Carlyle,  in  Indoor.  Studies  ;  and  the  latter 
volume  contains  his  essay  on  Tiioreau. 

In  the  autumn  of  1863  he  went  to  "Washington,  and  IE 
the  following  January  entered  the  Treasury  Department 
He  was  for  some  years  an  assistant  in  the  office  of  the 
Comptroller  of  the  Currency,  and  later  chief  of  the  organi- 
sation division  of  that  Bureau.  For  some  time  he  was 
keeper  of  one  of  the  vaults,  and  for  a  great  part  of  the  day 
his  only  duty  was  to  be  at  his  desk.  In  these  leisure  hours 
his  mind  traveled  off  into  the  country,  where  his  previous 
life  had  been  spent,  and  with  the  help  of  his  pen,  always  a 
faithful  friend  and  magician,  he  lived  over  again  those 
happy  days,  now  happier  still  with  the  glamour  of  all  past 
pleasures.  In  this  way  he  wrote  Wake-Robin  and  a  part 
of  Winter  Sunshine.  It  must  not  be  supposed,  however, 
that  he  was  deprived  of  outdoor  pleasures  while  at  Wash- 
ington. On  the  contrary,  he  enjoyed  many  walks  in  the 
suburbs  of  the  capital,  and  in  those  days  the  real  country 
came  up  to  the  very  edges  of  the  city.  His  Spring  at  the 
Capital,  Winter  Sunshine,  A  March  Chronicle,  and  other 
papers  bear  the  fruit  of  his  life  on  the  Potomac.  He  went 
to  England  in  1871  on  business  for  the  Treasury  Depart 
ment,  and  again  on  his  own  account  a  dozen  years  later. 
The  record  of  the  two  visits  is  to  be  found  mainly  in  his 
chapters  on  An  October  Abroad,  contained  in  the  volume 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH.  v 

Winter  Sunshine,  and  in  the  papers  gathered  into  the 
volume  Fresh  Fields. 

He  resigned  his  place  in  the  Treasury  in  1873,  and  was 
appointed  receiver  of  a  broken  national  bank.  Later,  unti1 
1885,  his  business  occupation  was  that  of  a  National  Bank 
Examiner.  An  article  contributed  by  him  to  The  Century 
Magazine  for  March,  1881,  on  Broken  Banks  and  Lax 
Director's,  is  perhaps  the  only  literary  outcome  of  this  occu- 
pation, but  the  keen  powers  of  observation,  trained  in  the 
Held  of  nature,  could  not  fail  to  disclose  themselves  in 
analyzing  columns  of  figures.  After  leaving  Washington 
Mr.  Burroughs  bought  a  fruit  farm  at  West  Park,  near 
Esopus,  on  the  Hudson,  and  there  building  his  house  from 
the  stones  found  in  his  fields,  has  given  himself  the  best- 
conditions  for  that  humanizing  of  nature  which  constitutes 
the  charm  of  his  books.  He  was  married  in  1857  to  a  lady 
living  in  the  New  York  village  where  he  was  at  the  time 
teaching.  He  keeps  his  country  home  the  year  round,  only 
occasionally  visiting  New  York.  The  cultivation  of  grapes 
absorbs  the  greater  part  of  his  time ;  but  he  has  by  no  means 
given  over  letters.  His  work,  which  has  long  found  ready 
acceptance  both  at  home  and  abroad,  is  now  passing  into  that 
security  of  fame  which  comes  from  its  entrance  into  the 
school-life  of  American  children. 

Besides  his  outdoor  sketches  and  the  other  papers  already 
mentioned,  Mr.  Burroughs  has  written  a  number  of  critical 
essays  on  life  and  literature,  published  in  Indoor  Studies, 
and  other  volumes.  He  has  also  taken  his  readers  into  his 
confidence  in  An  Egotistical  Chapter,  the  final  one  of  his 
Indoor  Studies ;  and  in  the  Introduction  to  the  Riverside 
Edition  of  his  writings  he  has  given  us  further  glimpses  of 
his  private  intellectual  life. 

Probably  no  other  American  writer  has  a  greater  sym- 
pathy with,  and  a  keener  enjoyment  of,  country  life  in  all 
its  phases  —  farming,  camping,  fishing,  walking  —  than  has 
John  Burroughs.  His  books  are  redolent  of  the  soil,  and 
have  such  "freshness  and  primal  sweetness,"  that  we  need 


vi  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

not  be  told  that  the  pleasure  he  gets  from  his  walks  and 
excursions  is  by  no  means  over  when  he  steps  inside  his 
doors  again.  As  he  tells  us  on  more  than  one  occasion,  he 
finds  he  can  get  much  more  out  of  his  outdoor  experiences 
by  thinking  them  over,  and  writing  them  out  afterwards. 

Numbers  28,  36,  and  92  of  the  Riverside  Literature  Se- 
ries consist  of  selections  from  Mr.  Burroughs's  books.  No. 
28,  which  is  entitled  Birds  and  Bees,  is  made  up  of  Bird 
Enemies  and  The  Tragedies  of  the  Nests  from  the  volume 
Signs  and  Seasons,  An  Idyl  of  the  Honey-Bee  from  Pe- 
pacton,  and  The  Pastoral  Bees  from  Locusts  and  Wild 
Honey.  The  Introduction,  by  Miss  Mary  E.  Burt,  gives 
an  account  of  the  use  of  Mr.  Burroughs's  writings  in 
Chicago  schools. 

In  No.  36,  Sharp  Eyes^  and  Other  Papers,  the  initial 
paper,  Sharp  Eyes,  is  drawn  from  Locusts  and  Wild 
Honey,  The  Apple  comes  from  Winter  Sunshine,  A  Taste 
f  Maine  Birch  and  Winter  Neighbors  from  Signs  and 
Seasons,  and  Notes  by  the  Way  (on  muskrats,  squirrels, 
foxes,  and  woodchucks)  from  Pepacton. 

The  collection  called  A  Bunch  of  Herbs,  and  Other 
Papers,  forming  No.  92  of  the  Series,  was  designed  with 
special  reference  to  what  the  author  has  to  say  of  trees  and 
flowers,  and  contains  A  Bunch  of  Herbs  from  Pepacton, 
Strawberries  from  Locusts  and  Wild  Honey,  A  March 
Chronicle  and  Autumn  Tides  from  Winter  Sunshine,  A 
Spray  of  Pine  and  A  Spring  Relish  from  Signs  and 
Seasons,  and  English  Woods:  A  Contrast  from  Fresh 
Fields* 


INTKODUCTION. 


It  is  seldom  that  I  find  a  book  so  far  above  chil- 
ilren  that  I  cannot  share  its  best  thought  with  them. 
So  when  I  first  took  up  one  of  John  Burroughs's  es- 
says, I  at  once  foresaw  many  a  ramble  with  my  pupils 
through  the  enchanted  country  that  is  found  within 
its  breezy  pages.  To  read  John  Burroughs  is  to  live 
in  the  woods  and  fields,  and  to  associate  intimately 
with  all  their  little  timid  inhabitants ;  to  learn  that  — ■ 

"  God  made  all  the  creatures  and  gave  them  our  love  and  our  fear, 
To  give  sign,  we  and  they  are  his  children,  one  family  here." 

When  I  came  to  use  Pepacton  in  my  class  of  the 
sixth  grade,  I  soon  found,  not  only  that  the  children 
read  better  but  that  they  came  rapidly  to  a  better  ap- 
preciation of  the  finer  bits  of  literature  in  their  reg- 
ular readers,  while  their  interest  in  their  new  author 
grew  quickly  to  an  enthusiasm.  Never  was  a  little 
brother  or  sister  more  real  to  them  than  was  "  Peggy 
Mel"  as  she  rushed  into  the  hive  laden  with  stolen 
honey,  while  her  neighbors  gossiped  about  it,  or  the 
stately  elm  that  played  sly  tricks,  or  the  log  which 
proved  to  be  a  good  bedfellow  because  it  did  not  grum- 
ble. Burroughs's  way  of  investing  beasts,  birds,  in- 
sects, and  inanimate  things  with  human  motives  is 
very  pleasing  to  children.  They  like  to  trace  analo- 
gies between  the  human  and  the  irrational,  to  think 


4  INTRODUCTION. 

of  a  weed  as  a  tramp  stealing  rides,  of  Nature  as  a 
tell-tale  when  taken  by  surprise. 

The  quiet  enthusiasm  of  John  Burroughs's  essays  is 
much  healthier  than  the  over-wrought  dramatic  action 
which  sets  all  the  nerves  a-quiver,  — nerves  already 
stimulated  to  excess  by  the  comedies  and  tragedies 
forced  upon  the  daily  lives  of  children.  It  is  espe- 
cially true  of  children  living  in  crowded  cities,  shut 
away  from  the  woods  and  hills,  constant  witnesses  of 
the  effects  of  human  passion,  that  they  need  the  tonic 
of  a  quiet  literature  rather  than  the  stimulant  of  a 
stormy  or  dramatic  one,  —  a  literature  which  develops 
gentle  feelings,  deep  thought,  and  a  relish  for  what  is 
homely  and  homespun,  rather  than  a  literature  wlrch 
calls  forth  excited  feelings. 

The  essays  in  this  volume  are  those  in  which  my 
pupils  have  expressed  an  enthusiastic  interest,  or 
which,  after  careful  reading,  I  have  selected  for  future 
use.  I  have  found  in  them  lew  pages  so  hard  as  to 
require  over  much  study,  or  a  too  frequent  use  of  the 
dictionary.  John  Burroughs,  more  than  almost  any 
other  writer  of  the  time,  has  a  prevailing  taste  for  sim- 
ple words  and  simple  constructions.  "  He  that  runs 
may  read  "  him.  I  have  found  many  children  under 
eleven  years  of  age  who  could  read  a  whole  page  with- 
out hesitating.  If  I  discover  some  words  which  I  fore- 
see will  cause  difficulty,  I  place  such  on  the  black- 
board and  rapidly  pronounce  and  explain  them  before 
the  reading.  Generally,  however,  I  find  the  text  the 
best  interpreter  of  its  words.  What  follows  explains 
what  goes  before,  if  the  child  is  led  to  read  on  to  the 
end  of  the  sentence.  It  is  a  mistake  to  allow  children 
to  be  frightened  away  from  choice  reading  by  an  occa- 
sional hard  word.     There  is  no  better  time  than  hid 


INTRODUCTION.  5 

reading  lesson  in  which  to  teach  a  child  that  the  hard 
things  of  life  are  to  be  grappled  with  and  overcome. 
A  mistake  also,  I  think,  is  that  toilsome  process  of 
explanation  which  I  sometimes  find  teachers  following, 
under  the  impression  that  it  will  be  "  parrot  work " 
(as  the  stock  phrase  of  the  "institutes"  has  it)  for 
the  pupils  to  read  anything  which  they  do  not  clearly 
and  fully  comprehend.  Teachers'  definitions,  in  such 
cases,  I  have  often  noticed,  are  no  better  than  dic- 
tionary definitions,  and  surely  everybody  knows  that 
few  more  fruitless  things  than  dictionary  definitions 
are  ever  crammed  into  the  memory  of  a  child.  Bet' 
ter  far  give  free  play  to  the  native  intelligence  of  the 
child,  and  trust  it  to  apprehend,  though  it  may  not  yet 
comprehend  nor  be  able  to  express  its  apprehension 
in  definition.  On  this  subject  I  am  glad  to  quote  so 
high  an  authority  as  Sir  Walter  Scott :  "  Indeed  I 
rather  suspect  that  children  derive  impulses  of  a  pow- 
erful and  important  kind  from  reading  things  which 
they  do  not  comprehend,  and  therefore  that  to  write 
down  to  children's  understanding  is  a  mistake.  Set 
them  on  the  scent  and  let  them  puzzle  it  out." 

From  time  to  time  I  have  allowed  my  pupils  to  give 
me  written  reports  from  memory  of  these  essays,  and 
have  often  found  these  little  compositions  sparkling 
with  pleasing  information,  or  full  of  that  childlike  fun 
which  is  characteristic  of  the  author.  I  have  marked 
the  errors  in  these  exercises,  and  have  given  them 
back  to  the  children  to  rewrite.  Sometimes  the  sec- 
ond papers  show  careful  correction  —  and  sometimes 
the  mistakes  are  partially  neglected.  Very  often  the 
child  wishes  to  improve  on  the  first  composition,  and 
so  adds  new  blunders  as  well  as  creates  new  interest. 

There  is  a  law  of  self-preservation  in  Nature,  which 


6  INTRODUCTION. 

takes  care  of  mistakes.  Every  human  soul  reaches 
toward  the  light  in  the  most  direct  path  open  to  it, 
and  will  correct  its  own  errors  as  soon  as  it  is  devel- 
oped far  enough.  There  is  no  use  in  trying  to  force 
maturity ;  teachers  who  trouble  children  beyond  all 
reason,  and  worry  over  their  mistakes,  are  fumbling 
at  the  roots  of  young  plants  that  will  grow  if  they  are 
let  alone  long  enough. 

The  average  mechanical  work  (spelling,  construc- 
tion of  sentences,  writing,  etc)  is  better  under  this 
method  than  when  more  time  is  devoted  to  the  me- 
chanics and  less  to  the  thought  of  composition.  I 
have  seen  many  reports  of  Burroughs's  essays  from 
the  pens  of  children  more  pleasing  and  reliable  than 
the  essays  of  some  professional  re  viewers ;  in  these 
papers  I  often  find  the  children  adding  little  sugges- 
tions of  their  own  ;  as,  "  Do  birds  dream  ?  "  One  of 
the  girls  says  her  bird  "  jumps  in  its  sleep."  A  little 
ten  year  old  writes,  "  Weeds  are  unuseful  flowers," 
and,  "  I  like  this  book  because  there  are  real  things 
in  it."  Another  thinks  she  "will  look  more  care- 
fully '  if  she  ever  gets  out  into  the  country  again. 
For  the  development  of  close  observation  and  good 
Feeling  toward  the  common  things  of  life,  I  know  of 
Ho  writings  better  than  those  of  John  Burroughs. 

MAEY  E.  BURT. 

Jones  School,  Chicago.  Sept.  1,  1887. 


BIRDS. 


BIRD  ENEMIES. 

How  surely  the  birds  know  their  enemies !  Se€ 
ihow  the  wrens  and  robins  and  bluebirds  pursue  and 
scold  the  cat,  while  they  take  little  or  no  notice  of  the 
dog !  Even  the  swallow  will  fight  the  cat,  and,  re- 
lying too  confidently  upon  its  powers  of  flight,  some- 
times swoops  down  so  near  to  its  enemy  that  it  is 
caught  by  a  sudden  stroke  of  the  cat's  paw.  The 
only  case  I  know  of  in  which  our  small  birds  fail  to 
recognize  their  enemy  is  furnished  by  the  shrike  ;  ap- 
parently the  little  birds  do  not  know  that  this  modest- 
colored  bird  is  an  assassin.  At  least,  I  have  never 
seen  them  scold  or  molest  him,  or  utter  any  outcries 
at  his  presence,  as  they  usually  do  at  birds  of  prey. 
Probably  it  is  because  the  shrike  is  a  rare  visitant, 
and  is  not  found  in  this  part  of  the  country  during 
the  nesting  season  of  our  songsters. 

But  the  birds  have  nearly  all  found  out  the  trick 
of  the  jay,  and  when  he  comes  sneaking  through  the 
trees  in  May  and  June  in  quest  of  eggs,  he  is  quickly 
exposed  and  roundly  abused.  It  is  amusing  to  see 
the  robins  hustle  him  out  of  the  tree  which  holds  their 
nest.  They  cry  "  Thief,  thief !  "  to  the  top  of  their 
voices  as  they  charge  upon  him,  and  the  jay  retorts  in 
a  voice  scarcely  less  complimentary  as  he  makes  off. 


g  BIRDS. 

The  jays  have  their  enemies  also,  and  need  to  keep 
an  eye  on  their  own  eggs.  It  would  be  interesting  to 
know  if  jays  ever  rob  jays,  or  crows  plunder  crows; 
or  is  there  honor  among  thieves  even  in  the  feathered 
tribes  ?  I  suspect  the  jay  is  often  punished  by  birds 
which  are  otherwise  innocent  of  nest-robbing.  One 
season  I  found  a  jay's  nest  in  a  small  cedar  on  the 
side  of  a  wooded  ridge.  It  held  five  eggs,  every  one 
of  which  had  been  punctured.  Apparently  some  bird 
had  driven  its  sharp  beak  through  their  shells,  with 
the  sole  intention  of  destroying  them,  for  no  part  of 
the  contents  of  the  eggs  had  been  removed.  It  looked 
like  a  case  of  revenge  ;  as  if  some  thrush  or  warbler, 
whose  nest  had  suffered  at  the  hands  of  the  jays,  had 
watched  its  opportunity,  and  had  in  this  way  retail 
ated  upon  its  enemies.  An  egg  for  an  egg.  The  jays 
were  lingering  near,  very  demure  and  silent,  and  pro- 
bably ready  to  join  a  crusade  against  nest-robbers. 

The  great  bugaboo  of  the  birds  is  the  owl.  The 
owl  snatches  them  from  off  their  roosts  at  night,  and 
gobbles  up  their  eggs  and  young  in  their  nests.  He 
is  a  veritable  ogre  to  them,  and  his  presence  fills  them 
with  consternation  and  alarm. 

One  season,  to  protect  my  early  cherries,  I  placed 
a  large  stuffed  owl  amid  the  branches  of  the  tree. 
Such  a  racket  as  there  instantly  began  about  my 
grounds  is  not  pleasant  to  think  upon !  The  orioles 
and  robins  fairly  "  shrieked  out  their  affright."  T'hG 
news  instantly  spread  in  every  direction,  and  appar- 
ently every  bird  in  town  came  to  see  that  owl  in  the 
cherry-tree,  and  every  bird  took  a  cherry,  so  that  I 
lost  more  fruit  than  if  I  had  left  the  owl  in-doors. 
With  craning  necks  and  horrified  looks  the  birds 
alighted  upon  the  branches,  and  between  their  screams 


BIRD    ENEMIES.  9 

would  snatch  off  a  cherry,  as  if  the  act  was  some  re- 
lief to  their  outraged  feelings. 

The  chirp  and  chatter  of  the  young  of  birds  which 
build  in  concealed  or  inclosed  places,  like  the  wood- 
peckers,  the  house  wren,  the  high-hole,  the  oriole,  is 
in  marked  contrast  to  the  silence  of  the  fledgelings  of 
most  birds  that  build  open  and  exposed  nests.  The 
young  of  the  sparrows,  —  unless  the  social  sparrow  be 
an  exception,  —  warblers,  fly-catchers,  thrushes,  never 
allow  a  sound  to  escape  them  ;  and  on  the  alarm  note 
of  their  parents  being  heard,  sit  especially  close  and 
motionless,  while  the  young  of  chimney  swallows,  wood- 
peckers, and  orioles  are  very  noisy.  The  latter,  in  its 
deep  pouch,  is  quite  safe  from  birds  of  prey,  except 
perhaps  the  owl.  The  owl,  I  suspect,  thrusts  its  leg 
into  the  cavities  of  woodpeckers  and  into  the  pocket- 
like nest  of  the  oriole,  and  clutches  and  brings  forth 
the  birds  in  its  talons.  In  one  case  which  x  neard  of, 
a  screech-owl  had  thrust  its  claw  into  a  cavity  in  a 
tree,  and  grasped  the  head  of  a  red-headed  wood- 
pecker; being  apparently  unable  to  draw  its  prey  forth, 
it  had  thrust  its  own  round  head  into  the  hole,  and  in 
some  way  became  fixed  there,  and  had  thus  died  with 
the  woodpecker  in  its  talons. 

The  life  of  birds  is  beset  with  dangers  and  mishap' 
of  which  we  know  little.  One  day,  in  my  walk,  1 
came  upon  a  goldfinch  with  the  tip  of  one  wing  se 
curely  fastened  to  the  feathers  of  its  rump,  by  what 
appeared  to  be  the  silk  of  some  caterpillar.  The 
bird,  though  uninjured,  was  completely  crippled,  anJ 
could  not  fly  a  stroke.  Its  little  body  was  hot  and 
panting  in  my  hands,  as  I  carefully  broke  the  fetter. 
Then  it  darted  swiftly  away  with  a  happy  cry.  A 
record  of  all  the  accidents  and  tragedies  oi  bird  life 


10  BIRDS. 

for  a  single  season  would  show  many  curious  incidents 
A  friend  of  mine  opened  his  box-stove  one  fall  to  kin- 
dle a  fire  in  it,  when  he  beheld  in  the  black  interior 
the  desiccated  forms  of  two  bluebirds.  The  birds  had 
probably  taken  refuge  in  the  chimney  during  souk 
cold  spring  storm,  and  had  come  down  the  pipe  to  the 
stove,  from  whence  they  were  unable  to  ascend.  A 
peculiarly  touching  little  incident  of  bird  life  occurred 
to  a  caged  female  canary.  Though  unmated,  it  laid 
some  eggs,  and  the  happy  bird  was  so  carried  away 
by  her  feelings  that  she  would  offer  food  to  the  eggs, 
and  chatter  and  twitter,  trying,  as  it  seemed,  to  en- 
courage them  to  eat !  The  incident  is  hardly  tragic, 
neither  is  it  comic. 

Certain  birds  nest  in  the  vicinity  of  our  houses  and 
outbuildings,  or  even  in  and  upon  them,  for  protec- 
tion from  their  enemies,  but  they  often  thus  expose 
themselves  to  a  plague  of  the  most  deadly  character. 

I  refer  to  the  vermin  with  which  their  nests  often 
swarm,  and  which  kill  the  young  before  they  are 
fledged.  In  a  state  of  nature  this  probably  never 
happens;  at  least  I  have  never  seen  or  heard  of  it 
happening  to  nests  placed  in  trees  or  under  rocks.  It 
is  the  curse  of  civilization  falling  upon  the  birds  which 
come  too  near  man.  The  vermin,  or  the  germ  of  the 
vermin,  is  probably  conveyed  to  the  nest  in  hen's 
feathers,  or  in  straws  and  hairs  picked  up  about  the 
barn  or  hen-house.  A  robin's  nest  upon  your  porci 
or  in  your  summer-house  will  occasionally  become  an 
intolerable  nuisance  from  the  swarms  upon  swarms  of 
minute  vermin  with  which  it  is  filled.  The  parent 
birds  stem  the  tide  as  long  as  they  can,  but  are  often 
compelled  to  leave  the  young  to  their  terrible  fate. 

One  season  a  phcebe-bird  built  on  a  projecting  stone 


BIRD  ENEMIES.  U 

ander  the  eaves  of  the  house,  and  all  appeared  to  go 
well  till  the  young  were  nearly  fledged,  when  the  nest 
suddenly  became  a  bit  of  purgatory.  The  birds  kept 
their  places  in  their  burning  bed  till  they  could  hold 
)ut  no  longer,  when  they  leaped  forth  and  fell  dead 
-Upon  the  ground. 

After  a  delay  of  a  week  or  more,  during  which  1 
Imagine  the  parent  birds  purified  themselves  by  every 
means  known  to  them,  the  couple  built  another  nest  a 
few  yards  from  the  first,  and  proceeded  to  rear  a  sec- 
ond brood  ;  but  the  new  nest  developed  into  the  same 
bed  of  torment  that  the  first  did,  and  the  three  young 
birds,  nearly  ready  to  fly,  perished  as  they  sat  within 
it.  The  parent  birds  then  left  the  place  as  if  it  had 
been  accursed. 

I  imagine  the  smaller  birds  have  an  enemy  in  our 
Dative  white-footed  mouse,  though  I  have  not  proof 
enough  to  convict  him.  But  one  season  the  nest  of  a 
chickadee  which  I  was  observing  was  broken  up  in  a 
position  where  nothing  but  a  mouse  could  have  reached 
it.  The  bird  had  chosen  a  cavity  in  the  limb  of  an  ap- 
ple-tree which  stood  but  a  few  yards  from  the  house. 
The  cavity  was  deep,  and  the  entrance  to  it,  which  was 
ten  feet  from  the  ground,  was  small.  Barely  light 
enough  was  admitted,  when  the  sun  was  in  the  most 
favorable  position,  to  enable  one  to  make  out  the  num- 
r/er  of  eggs,  which  was  six,  at  the  bottom  of  the  dim 
Interior.  While  one  was  peering  in  and  trying  to  get 
nis  head  out  of  his  own  light,  the  bird  would  startle 
him  by  a  queer  kind  of  puffing  sound.  She  would 
Dot  leave  her  nest  like  most  birds,  but  really  tried  to 
blow,  or  scare,  the  intruder  away ;  and  after  repeated 
experiments  I  could  hardly  refrain  from  jerking  my 
Head  back  when  that  little  explosion  of  sound  came  ud 


12  BIRDS. 

from  the  dark  interior.  One  night,  when  incubation 
was  about  half  finished,  the  nest  was  harried.  A 
slight  trace  of  hair  or  fur  at  the  entrance  led  me  to 
infer  that  some  small  animal  was  the  robber.  A 
weasel  might  have  done  it,  as  they  sometimes  climb 
«rees,  but  I  doubt  if  either  a  squirrel  or  a  rat  could 
have  passed  the  entrance. 

Probably  few  persons  have  ever  suspected  the  cat° 
bird  of  being  an  egg-sucker  ;  I  do  not  know  that  she 
has  ever  been  accused  of  such  a  thing,  but  there  is 
something  uncanny  and  disagreeable  about  her,  which 
I  at  once  understood,  when  I  one  day  caught  her  in 
the  very  act  of  going  through  a  nest  of  eggs. 

A  pair  of  the  least  fly-catchers,  the  bird  which  say* 
chebec,  chcbec,  and  is  a  small  edition  of  the  pewee, 
one  season  built  their  nest  where  I  had  them  for  many 
hours  each  day  under  my  observation.  The  nest  was 
a  very  snug  and  compact  structure  placed  in  the  forks 
of  a  small  maple  about  twelve  feet  from  the  ground, 
The  season  before,  a  red  squirrel  had  harried  the  nest 
of  a  wood-thrush  in  this  same  tree,  and  I  was  aj)pre- 
hensive  that  he  would  serve  the  fly-catcbers  the  sam3 
trick;  so,  as  I  sat  with  my  book  in  a  summer-hous^ 
near  by,  I  kept  my  loaded  gun  within  easy  read-. 
One  egg  was  laid,  and  the  next  morning,  as  I  made 
my  daily  inspection  of  the  nest,  only  a  fragment  of 
its  empty  shell  was  to  be  found.  This  I  removed, 
meu tally  imprecating  the  rogue  of  a  red  squirrel. 
The  birds  were  much  disturbed  by  the  event,  but  did 
not  desert  the  nest,  as  I  had  feared  they  would,  but 
after  much  inspection  of  it  and  many  consultations 
together,  concluded,  it  seems,  to  try  again.  Two 
more  eggs  were  laid,  when  one  day  I  heard  the  bird* 
Utter  a  sharp  cry,  and  on  looking  up  1  saw  a  cat-bir*7 


BIRD  ENEMIES.  13 

perched  upon  the  riin  of  the  nest,  hastily  devouring 
the  eggs.  I  soon  regretted  my  precipitation  in  kill' 
ing  her,  because  such  interference  is  generally  unwise. 
It  turned  out  that  she  had  a  nest  of  her  own  with  five 
eggs,  in  a  spruce-tree  near  my  window. 

Then  this  pair  of  little  fly-catchers  did  what  I  had 
never  seen  birds  do  before ;  they  pulled  the  nest  to 
pieces  and  rebuilt  it  in  a  peach-tree  not  many  rodi> 
away,  where  a  brood  was  successfully  reared.  The 
nest  was  here  exposed  to  the  direct  rays  of  the  noon- 
day sun,  and  to  shield  her  young  when  the  heat  was 
greatest,  the  mother-bird  would  stand  above  them 
with  wings  slightly  spread,  as  other  birds  have  beei* 
:«iown  to  do  under  like  circumstances. 

To  what  extent  the  cat-bird  is  a  nest-robber  I  have 
ao  evidence,  but  that  feline  mew  of  hers,  and  that 
flirting,  flexible  tail,  suggest  something  not  entirely 
bird-like. 

Probably  the  darkest  tragedy  of  the  nest  is  enacted 
when  a  snake  plunders  it.  All  birds  and  animals,  so 
far  as  I  have  observed,  behave  in  a  peculiar  manner 
toward  a  snake.  They  seem  to  feel  something  of  the 
same  loathing  toward  it  that  the  human  species  expe* 
riences.  The  bark  of  a  dog  when  he  encounters  a 
snake  is  different  from  that  which  he  gives  out  on 
any  other  occasion  ;  it  is  a  mingled  note  of  alarm, 
inquiry,  and  disgust. 

One  day  a  tragedy  was  enacted  a  few  yards  fron? 
where  I  was  sitting  with  a  book ;  two  song-sparrowfe 
were  trying  to  defend  their  nest  against  a  black 
snake.  The  curious,  interrogating  note  of  a  chicken 
who  had  suddenly  come  upon  the  scene  in  his  walk- 
first  caused  me  to  look  up  from  my  reading.  There 
were  the  sparrows,  with  wings  raised  in  a  way  pecu* 


14  BIRDS. 

liarly  expressive  of  horror  and  dismay,  rushing  about 
a  low  clump  of  grass  and  bushes.  Then,  looking  more 
closely,  I  saw  the  glistening  form  of  the  black  snake, 
and  the  quick  movement  of  his  head  as  he  tried  to 
seize  the  birds.  The  sparrows  darted  about  and 
through  the  grass  and  weeds,  trying  to  beat  the 
snake  off.  Their  tails  and  wings  were  spread,  and, 
panting  with  the  heat  and  the  desperate  struggle,  they 
presented  a  most  singular  spectacle.  They  uttered  no 
cry,  not  a  sound  escaped  them  ;  they  were  plainly 
speechless  with  horror  and  dismay.  Not  once  did 
they  drop  their  wings,  and  the  peculiar  expression 
of  those  uplifted  palms,  as  it  were,  I  shall  never 
forget.  It  occurred  to  me  that  perhaps  here  was  a 
case  of  attempted  bird-charming  on  the  part  of  the 
snake,  so  I  looked  on  from  behind  the  fence.  The 
birds  charged  the  snake  and  harassed  him  from  every 
side,  but  were  evidently  under  no  spell  save  that  of 
courage  in  defending  their  nest.  Every  moment  or 
two  I  could  see  the  head  and  neck  of  the  serpent 
make  a  sweep  at  the  birds,  when  the  one  struck  at 
would  fall  back,  and  the  other  would  renew  the  as- 
sault from  the  rear.  There  appeared  to  be  little  dan- 
ger that  the  snake  could  strike  and  hold  one  of  the 
birds,  though  I  trembled  for  them,  they  were  so  bold 
*nd  approached  so  near  to  the  snake's  head.  Time 
and  again  he  sprang  at  them,  but  without  success. 
How  the  poor  things  panted,  and  held  up  their  wings 
appealingly  !  Then  the  snake  glided  off  to  the  near 
fence,  barely  escaping  the  stone  which  I  hurled  at 
him.  I  found  the  nest  rifled  and  deranged ;  whether 
it  had  contained  eggs  or  young  I  know  not.  The 
male  sparrow  had  cheered  me  many  a  day  with  his 
3ong,  and  I  blamed  myself  for  not  having  rushed  at 


BIRD  ENEMIES.  15 

once  to  the  rescue,  when  the  arch  enemy  was  upon 
him.  There  is  probably  little  truth  in  the  popular 
notion  that  snakes  charm  birds.  The  black  snake  if 
the  most  subtle,  alert,  and  devilish  of  our  snakes,  and 
I  have  never  seen  him  have  any  but  young,  helpless 
foirds  in  his  mouth. 

We  have  one  parasitical  bird,  the  cow-bird,  so-called 
because  it  walks  about  amid  the  grazing  cattle  and 
seizes  the  insects  which  their  heavy  tread  sets  going, 
which  is  an  enemy  of  most  of  the  smaller  birds.  It 
drops  its  egg  in  the  nest  of  the  song-sparrow,  the 
social  sparrow,  the  snow-bird,  the  vireos,  and  the 
wood -warblers,  and  as  a  rule  it  is  the  only  egg  in 
the  nest  that  issues  successfully.  Either  the  eggs  o£ 
the  rightful  owner  of  the  nest  are  not  hatched,  or  else 
the  young  are  overridden  and  overreached  by  the 
parasite  and  perish  prematurely. 

Among  the  worst  enemies  of  our  birds  are  the  so- 
called  "  collectors,"  men  who  plunder  nests  and  mur- 
der their  owners  in  the  name  of  science.  Not  the 
genuine  ornithologist,  for  no  one  is  more  careful  of 
squandering  bird  life  than  he  ;  but  the  sham  ornithol- 
ogist, the  man  whose  vanity  or  affectation  happens  to 
take  an  ornithological  turn.  He  is  seized  with  an 
itching  for  a  collection  of  eggs  and  birds  because  it 
happens  to  be  the  fashion,  or  because  it  gives  him  the 
air  of  a  man  of  science.  But  in  the  majority  of  cases 
the  motive  is  a  mercenary  one  ;  the  collector  expects 
to  sell  these  spoils  of  the  groves  and  orchards.  Hob 
bing  nests  and  killing  birds  becomes  a  business  with 
him.  He  goes  about  it  systematically,  and  becomes 
an  expert  in  circumventing  and  slaying  our  songsters. 
Every  town  of  any  considerable  size  is  infested  with 
one  or  more  of   these   bird   highwaymen,  and  every 


16  BIRDS. 

nest  in  the  country  round  about  that  the  wretches  caa 
lay  hands  on  is  harried.  Their  professional  term  for 
a  nest  of  eggs  is  u  a  clutch,"  a  word  that  well  ex- 
presses the  work  of  their  grasping,  murderous  fingers. 
They  clutch  and  destroy  in  the  germ  the  life  and 
music  of  the  woodlands.  Certain  of  our  natural 
history  journals  are  mainly  organs  of  communication 
between  these  human  weasels.  They  record  their 
exploits  at  nest-robbing  and  bird-slaying  in  their  col- 
umns. One  collector  tells  with  gusto  how  he  "  worked 
his  way ':  through  an  orchard,  ransacking  every  tree, 
and  leaving,  as  he  believed,  not  one  nest  behind  him. 
He  had  better  not  be  caught  working  his  way  through 
my  orchard.  Another  gloats  over  the  number  of 
Connecticut  warblers  —  a  rare  bird  —  he  killed  in 
one  season  in  Massachusetts.  Another  tells  how  a 
mocking-bird  appeared  in  southern  New  England  and 
was  hunted  down  by  himself  and  friend,  its  eggs 
''  clutched,"  and  the  bird  killed.  Who  knows  how 
«nuch  the  bird  lovers  of  New  England  lost  by  that 
foul  deed  ?  The  progeny  of  the  birds  would  probably 
have  returned  to  Connecticut  to  breed,  and  their 
progeny,  or  a  part  of  them,  the  same,  till  in  time  the 
famous  songster  would  have  become  a  regular  visitant 
to  New  England.  In  the  same  journal  still  another 
collector  describes  minutely  how  he  outwitted  three 
humming-birds  and  captured  their  nests  and  eggs,— 
a  clutch  he  was  very  proud  of.  A  Massachusetts  bird 
harrier  boasts  of  his  clutch  of  the  eggs  of  that  dainty 
little  warbler,  the  blue  yellow-back.  One  season 
he  took  two  sets,  the  next  five  sets,  the  next  four  sets, 
besides  some  single  eggs,  and  the  next  season  four  sets, 
and  says  he  might  have  found  more  had  he  had  more 
time.    One  season  he  took,  in  about  twenty  days,  three 


BIRD  ENEMIES.  17 

aets  from  one  tree.  I  have  heard  of  a  collector  who 
boasted  of  having  taken  one  hundred  sets  of  the  eggs 
of  the  marsh  wren  in  a  single  day ;  of  another,  who 
took,  in  the  same  time,  thirty  nests  of  the  yellow- 
breasted  chat ;  and  of  still  another,  who  claimed  to 
have  taken  one  thousand  sets  of  e^s  of  different  birds 
in  one  season.  A  large  business  has  grown  up  under 
the  influence  of  this  collecting  craze.  One  dealer 
in  eggs  has  those  of  over  five  hundred  species.  He 
says  that  his  business  in  1883  was  twice  that  of 
1882  ;  in  1884  it  was  twice  that  of  1883,  and  so  on. 
Collectors  vie  with  each  other  in  the  extent  and 
variety  of  their  cabinets.  They  not  only  obtain  eggs 
in  sets,  but  aim  to  have  a  number  of  sets  of  the  same 
bird,  so  as  to  show  all  possible  variations.  I  hear  of 
a  private  collection  that  contains  twelve  sets  of  king- 
birds' eggs,  eight  sets  of  house-wrens'  eggs,  four  sets 
of  mocking-birds'  eggs,  etc.  ;  sets  of  eggs  taken  in  lovr 
trees,  high  trees,  medium  trees ;  spotted  sets,  dark  sets, 
plain  sets,  and  light  sets  of  the  same  species  of  bird. 
Many  collections  are  made  on  this  latter  plan. 
-"  Thus  are  our  birds  hunted  and  cut  off,  and  all  in 
the  name  of  science  ;  as  if  science  had  not  long  ago 
finished  with  these  birds.  She  has  weighed  and  mea- 
sured, and  dissected,  and  described  them,  and  their 
nests,  and  eggs,  and  placed  them  in  her  cabinet ;  and 
the  interest  of  science  and  of  humanity  now  demands 
that  this  wholesale  nest-robbing  cease.  These  inci- 
dents I  have  given  above,  it  is  true,  are  but  drops  in 
the  bucket,  but  the  bucket  would  be  more  than  full  if 
we  could  get  all  the  facts.  Where  one  man  publishes 
his  notes,  hundreds,  perhaps  thousands,  say  nothing, 
but  go  as  silently  about  their  nest-robbing  as  weasels. 
It  is  true  that  the  student  of  ornithology  often  feeis 


18  BIRDS. 

compelled  to  take  bird-life.  It  is  not  an  easy  matter 
to  "name  all  the  birds  without  a  gun,"  though  aa 
opera-glass  will  often  render  identification  entirely 
certain,  and  leave  the  songster  unharmed ;  but  onoe 
having  mastered  the  birds,  the  true  ornithologist  leaves 
his  gun  at  home.  This  view  of  the  case  may  not  be 
agreeable  to  that  desiccated  mortal  called  the  "  closet 
naturalist,"  but  for  my  own  part  the  closet  naturalist 
is  a  person  with  whom  I  have  very  little  sympathy. 
He  is  about  the  most  wearisome  and  profitless  creature 
in  existence.  With  his  piles  of  skins,  his  cases  of 
eggs,  his  laborious  feather-splitting,  and  his  outlandish 
nomenclature,  he  is  not  only  the  enemy  of  the  birds 
but  the  enemy  of  all  those  who  would  know  them 
rightly. 

Not  the  collectors  alone  are  to  blame  for  the  dimin- 
ishing numbers  of  our  wild  birds,  but  a  large  share 
of  the  responsibility  rests  upon  quite  a  different  class 
of  persons,  namely,  the  milliners.  False  taste  in 
dress  is  as  destructive  to  our  feathered  friends  as  are 
false  aims  in  science.  It  is  said  that  the  traffic  in 
the  skins  of  our  brighter  plumaged  birds,  arising 
from  their  use  by  the  milliners,  reaches  to  hundreds 
of  thousands  annually.  I  am  told  of  one  middleman 
who  collected  from  the  shooters  in  one  district,  in  four 
months,  seventy  thousand  skins.  It  is  a  barbarous 
taste  that  craves  this  kind  of  ornamentation.  Think 
of  a  woman  or  girl  of  real  refinement  appearing  upon 
the  street  with  her  head  gear  adorned  with  the  scalps 
of  our  songsters ! 

>/  It  is  probably  true  that  the  number  of  our  birds 
destroyed  by  man  is  but  a  small  percentage  of  the 
number  cut  off  by  their  natural  enemies ;  but  it  is  to 
be  remembered  that  those  he  destroys  are  in  addition 


BIRD  ENEMIES.  19 

to  those  thus  cut  off,  and  that  it  is  this  extra  or  ar- 
tificial destruction  that  disturbs  the  balance  of  nature. 
The  operation  of  natural  causes  keeps  the  birds  in 
check,  but  the  greed  of  the  collectors  and  milliners 
tends  to  their  extinction. 

I  can  pardon  a  man  who  wishes  to  make  a  collec- 
tion of  eggs  and  birds  for  his  own  private  use,  if  he 
will  content  himself  with  one  or  two  specimens  of  a 
kind,  though  he  will  find  any  collection  much  less 
satisfactory  and  less  valuable  than  he  imagines,  but 
the  professional  nest-robber  and  skin  collector  should 
be  put  down,  either  by  legislation  or  with  dogs  and 
shot-guns. 

I  have  remarked  above  thai  there  is  probably  very 
little  truth  in  the  popular  notion  that  snakes  can 
"charm  "  birds.  But  two  of  my  correspondents  have 
each  furnished  me  with  an  incident  from  his  own  ex- 
perience, which  seems  to  confirm  the  popular  belief. 
One  of  them  writes  from  Georgia  as  follows  :  — 

"Some  twenty-eight  years  ago  I  was  in  Calaveras 
County,  California,  engaged  in  cutting  lumber.  One 
day  in  coming  out  of  the  camp  or  cabin,  my  attention 
was  attracted  to  the  curious  action  of  a  quail  in  the 
air,  which,  instead  of  flying  low  and  straight  ahead  as 
usual,  was  some  fifty  feet  high,  flying  in  a  circle,  and 
uttering  cries  of  distress.  I  watched  the  bird  and 
saw  it  gradually  descend,  and  following  with  my  eye 
in  a  line  from  the  bird  to  the  ground  saw  a  large 
snake  with  head  erect  and  some  ten  or  twelve  inches 
above  the  ground,  and  mouth  wide  open,  and  as  far 
as  I  could  see,  gazing  intently  on  the  quail  (I  was 
about  thirty  feet  from  the  snake).  The  quail  gradu- 
ally descended,  its  circles  growing  smaller  and  smaller 
and  all  the  time  uttering  cries  of  distress,  until  its  feet 


20  BIRDS. 

were  within  two  or  three  inches  of  the  mouth  of  the 
snake  ;  when  I  threw  a  stone,  and  though  not  hitting 
the  snake,  yet  struck  the  ground  so  near  as  to  frighten 
him,  and  he  gradually  started  off.  The  quail,  how- 
ever,  fell  to  the  ground,  apparently  lifeless.  I  went 
forward  and  picked  it  up  and  found  it  was  thoroughly 
overcome  with  fright,  its  little  heart  beating  as  if  it  .> 
would  burst  through  the  skin.  After  holding  it  in» 
my  hand  a  few  moments  it  flew  away.  I  then  tried 
to  find  the  snake,  but  could  not.  I  am  unable  to  say 
whether  the  snake  was  venomous  or  belonged  to  the 
constricting  family,  like  the  black  snake.  I  can  well 
recollect  it  was  large  and  moved  off  rather  slow.  As 
I  had  never  seen  anything  of  the  kind  before,  it  made 
a  great  impression  on  my  mind,  and  after  the  lapse 
of  so  long  a  time,  the  incident  appears  as  vivid  to 
me  as  though  it  had  occurred  yesterday." 

It  is  not  probable  that  the  snake  had  its  mouth 
open  ;  its  darting  tongue  may  have  given  that  impres- 
sion. 

The  other  incident  comes  to  me  from  Vermont. 
"  While  returning  from  church  in  1876,"  says  the 
writer,  "  as  I  was  crossing  a  bridge  ...  I  noticed  a 
striped  snake  in  the  act  of  charming  a  song-sparrow. 
They  were  both  upon  the  sand  beneath  the  bridge. 
The  snake  kept  his  head  swaying  slowly  from  side  to 
side,  and  darted  his  tongue  out  continually.  The 
bird,  not  over  a  foot  away,  was  facing  the  snake,  horv 
ping  from  one  foot  to  the  other,  and  uttering  a  dis- 
satisfied little  chirp.  I  watched  them  till  the  snake 
seized  the  bird,  having  gradually  drawn  nearer.  As 
he  seized  it,  I  leaped  over  the  side  of  the  bridge; 
the  snake  glided  away  and  I  took  up  the  bird,  which 
he  had  dropped.     It  was  too  frightened  to  try  to  fly. 


THE    TRAGEDIES   OF   THE  NESTS.  21 

and  1  carried  it  nearly  a  mile  before  it  flew  from  my 
open  hand." 

If  these  observers  are  quite  sure  of  what  they  saw„ 
fchen   undoubtedly   snakes   have    the   power   to   draw 
birds  within  their  grasp.    I  remember  that  my  mother 
once  told  me  that  while  gathering  wild   strawberries 
she  had   on  one  occasion  come  upon  a  bird  fluttering 
about  the  head  of  a  snake  as  if  held  there  by  a  spell. 
On  her  appearance,  the  snake  lowered  its  head  and 
made  off,  and  the  panting  bird  flew  away.     A  neigh- 
bor of  mine  killed  a  black  suake  which  had  swallowed 
a  full-grown  red  squirrel,  probably  captured  by  the 
same  power  of  fascination. 


THE  TRAGEDIES  OF  THE  NESTS. 

The  life  of  the  birds,  especially  of  our  migratory 
song-birds,  is  a  series  of  adventures  and  of  hair-breadth 
escapes  by  flood  and  field.  Very  few  of  them  prob- 
ably die  a  natural  death,  or  even  live  out  half  their 
appointed  days.  The  home  instinct  is  strong  in  birds 
as  it  is  in  most  creatures ;  and  I  am  convinced  that 
every  spring  a  large  number  of  those  which  have  sur- 
vived the  Southern  campaign  return  to  their  old 
haunts  to  breed.  A  Connecticut  farmer  took  me  out 
under  his  porch,  one  April  day,  and  showed  me  a 
phoebe  bird's  nest  six  stories  high.  The  same  bird 
had  no  doubt  returned  year  after  year ;  and  as  there 
was  room  for  only  one  nest  upon  her  favorite  shelf, 
she  had  each  season  reared  a  new  superstructure  upon 
the  old  as  a  foundation.  I  have  heard  of  a  white 
robin  —  an  albino  —  that  nested  several  years  in  sue* 


22  BIRDS. 

cession  in  the  suburbs  of  a  Maryland  city.  A  sparrow 
with  a  very  marked  peculiarity  of  song  I  have  heard 
several  seasons  in  my  own  locality.  But  the  birds 
do  not  all  live  to  return  to  their  old  haunts  :  the  bobo- 
links and  starlings  run  a  gauntlet  of  fire  from  the 
Hudson  to  the  Savannah,  and  the  robins  and  meadow- 
larks  and  other  song-birds  are  shot  by  boys  and  pot- 
hunters  in  great  numbers,  —  to  say  nothing  of  their 
danger  from  hawks  and  owls.  But  of  those  that  do 
return,  what  perils  beset  their  nests,  even  in  the  most 
favored  localities !  The  cabins  of  the  early  settler?, 
when  the  country  was  swarming  with  hostile  Indians, 
were  not  surrounded  by  such  dangers.  The  tender 
households  of  the  birds  are  not  only  exposed  to  hos* 
tile  Indians  in  the  shape  of  cats  and  collectors,  but  to 
numerous  murderous  and  bloodthirsty  animals,  against 
whom  they  have  no  defense  but  concealment.  They 
lead  the  darkest  kind  of  pioneer  life,  even  in  our  gar* 
dens  and  orchards,  and  under  the  walls  of  our  houses. 
Not  a  day  or  a  night  passes,  from  the  time  the  eggs 
are  laid  till  the  young  are  flown,  when  the  chances  are 
not  greatly  in  favor  of  the  nest  being  rifled  and  its 
contents  devoured,  —  by  owls,  skunks,  minks,  and 
coons  at  night,  and  by  crows,  jays,  squirrels,  weasels, 
snakes,  and  rats  during  the  day.  Infancy,  we  say>  is 
hedged  about  by  many  perils  ;  but  the  infancy  of  birds 
is  cradled  and  pillowed  in  peril.  An  old  Michigan 
settler  told  me  that  the  first  six  children  that  were  born 
to  him  died  ;  malaria  and  teething  invariably  carried 
them  off  when  they  had  reached  a  certain  age  ;  but 
other  children  were  born,  the  country  improved,  and 
by  and  by  the  babies  weathered  the  critical  period, 
and  the  next  six  lived  and  grew  up.  The  birds,  too, 
would  no  doubt  persevere  six  times  and  twice  six  times. 


THE  TRAGEDIES   OF   THE  NESTS.  23 

if  the  season  were  long  enough,  and  finally  rear  their 
family,  but  the  waning  summer  cuts  them  short,  and 
but  few  species  have  the  heart  and  strength  to  make 
even  the  third  trial,    n^ 

/*  The  first  nest-builders  in  spring,  like  the  first  settlers 
near  hostile  tribes,  suffer  the  most  casualties.  A  la/ge 
proportion  of  the  nests  of  April  and  May  are  de* 
stroyed ;  their  enemies  have  been  many  months  without 
eggs,  and  their  appetites  are  keen  for  them.  It  is  a 
time,  too,  when  other  food  is  scarce,  and  the  crows 
and  squirrels  are  hard  put.  But  the  second  nests  of 
June,  and  still  more  the  nests  of  July  and  August, 
are  seldom  molested.  It  is  rarely  that  the  nest  of 
the  goldfinch  or  the  cedar-bird  is  harried. 

My  neighborhood  on  the  Hudson  is  perhaps  excep- 
tionally unfavorable  as  a  breeding  haunt  for  birds, 
owing  to  the  abundance  of  fish-crows  and  of  red  squir- 
rels ;  and  the  season  of  which  this  chapter  is  mainly 
a  chronicle,  the  season  of  1881,  seems  to  have  been 
a  black-letter  one  even  for  this  place,  for  at  least  nine 
nests  out  of  every  ten  that  I  observed  during  that 
spring  and  summer  failed  of  their  proper  issue.  From 
the  first  nest  I  noted,  which  was  that  of  a  bluebird, 
• —  built  (very  imprudently  I  thought  at  the  time)  in 
a  squirrel-hole  in  a  decayed  apple-tree,  about  the  last 
of  April,  and  which  came  to  naught,  even  the  moiher- 
bird,  I  suspect,  perishing  by  a  violent  death,  —  to 
;he  iast,  which  was  that  of  a  snow-bird,  observed  ifl 
August,  among  the  Catskills,  deftly  concealed  in  a 
mossy  bank  by  the  side  of  a  road  that  skirted  a  wood, 
where  the  tall  thimble  blackberries  grew  in  abundance, 
and  from  which  the  last  young  one  was  taken,  when  H 
was  about  half  grown,  by  some  nocturnal  walker  or 
daylight  prowler,  some  untoward  fate  seemed  hovering 


24  BIRDS. 

about  them.  It  was  a  season  of  calamities,  of  violent 
deaths,  of  pillage  and  massacre,  among  our  feathered 
neighbors.  For  the  first  time  I  noticed  that  the 
orioles  were  not  safe  in  their  strong,  pendent  nests 
Three  broods  were  started  in  the  apple-trees,  only  a 
few  yards  from  the  house,  where,  for  previous  seasons, 
the  birds  had  nested  without  molestation  ;  but  this 
time  the  young  were  all  destroyed  when  about  half 
grown.  Their  chirping  and  chattering,  which  was  so 
noticeable  one  day,  suddenly  ceased  the  next.  The 
nests  were  probably  plundered  at  night,  and  doubtless 
by  the  little  red  screech-owl,  which  I  know  is  a  denizen 
of  these  old  orchards,  living  in  the  deeper  cavities  of 
the  trees.  The  owl  could  alight  on  the  top  of  the  nest, 
and  easily  thrust  his  murderous  claw  down  into 
its  long  pocket  and  seize  the  young  and  draw  them 
forth.  The  tragedy  of  one  of  the  nests  was  heightened, 
or  at  least  made  more  palpable,  by  one  of  the  half- 
fledged  birds,  either  in  its  attempt  to  escape  or  while 
in  the  clutches  of  the  enemy,  being  caught  and  entan- 
gled in  one  of  the  horse-hairs  by  which  the  nest  wras 
stayed  and  held  to  the  limb  above.  There  it  hung 
bruised  and  dead,  gibbeted  to  its  own  cradle.  This 
nest  was  the  theatre  of  another  little  tragedy  later  in 
the  season.  Some  time  in  August  a  bluebird,  indulging 
its  propensity  to  peep  and  pry  into  holes  and  crevices9 
alighted  upon  it  and  probably  inspected  the  interior; 
but  by  some  unlucky  move  it  got  its  wings  entangled 
in  this  same  fatal  horse-hair.  Its  efforts  to  free  itself 
appeared  only  to  result  in  its  being  more  securely  and 
hopelessly  bound ;  and  there  it  perished ;  and  there  its 
form,  dried  and  embalmed  by  the  summer  heats,  was 
yet  hanging  in  September,  the  outspread  wings  and 
plumage  showing  nearly  as  bright  as  in  life. 


THE    TRAGEDIES    OE    THE   NESTS.  25 

A  correspondent  writes  me  that  one  of  his  orioles 
got  entangled  in  a  cord  while  building  her  nest,  and 
that  though  by  the  aid  of  a  ladder  he  reached  and 
liberated  her,  she  died  soon  afterward.  He  also 
found  a  "chippie"  (called  also  "hair  bird")  sus- 
pended from  a  branch  by  a  horse-hair,  beneath  & 
partly-constructed  nest.  I  heard  of  a  cedar-bird) 
caught  and  destroyed  in  the  same  way,  and  of  two 
young  bluebirds,  around  whose  legs  a  horse-hair  had 
become  so  tightly  wound  that  the  legs  withered  up 
and  dropped  off.  The  birds  became  fledged,  and 
finally  left  the  nest  with  the  others.  Such  tragedies 
are  probably  quite  common. 

Before  the  advent  of  civilization  in  this  country,  the 
oriole  probably  built  a  much  deeper  nest  than  it  usu- 
ally does  at  present.  When  now  it  builds  in  remote 
trees  and  along  the  borders  of  the  woods,  its  nest,  1 
have  noticed,  is  long  and  gourd-shaped  ;  but  in  or- 
chards and  near  dwellings  it  is  only  a  deep  cup  or 
pouch.  It  shortens  it  up  in  proportion  as  the  danger 
lessens.  Probably  a  succession  of  disastrous  years, 
like  the  one  under  review,  would  cause  it  to  lengthen 
it  again  beyond  the  reach  of  owl's  talons  or  jay-bird's 
beak. 

The  first  song-sparrow's  nest  I  observed  in  the 
spring  of  1881  was  in  the  field  under  a  fragment  of  & 
board,  the  board  being  raised  from  the  ground  a 
couple  of  inches  by  two  poles.  It  had  its  full  com- 
plement of  eggs,  and  probably  sent  forth  a  brood  of 
young  birds,  though  as  to  this  I  cannot  speak  posi- 
tively, as  I  neglected  to  observe  it  further.  It  was 
well  sheltered  and  concealed,  and  was  not  easily  come 
at  by  any  of  its  natural  enemies,  save  snakes  and 
weasels.     But    concealment    often   avails   little.     In 


26  BIRDS. 

May,  a  song-sparrow,  that  had  evidently  met  with 
disaster  earlier  in  the  season,  built  its  nest  in  a  thick 
mass  of  woodbine  against  the  side  of  my  house,  about 
fifteen  feet  from  the  ground.  Perhaps  it  took  the 
hint  from  its  cousin,  the  English  sparrow.  The  nest 
was  admirably  placed,  protected  from  the  storms  by 
the  overhanging  eaves  and  from  all  eyes  by  the  thick 
screen  of  leaves.  Only  by  patiently  watching  the. 
suspicious  bird,  as  she  lingered  near  with  food  in  her 
beak,  ^id  I  discover  its  whereabouts.  That  brood  is 
safe,  1  thought,  beyond  doubt.  But  it  was  not ;  the 
nest  was  pillaged  one  night,  either  by  an  owl,  or  else 
by  a  rat  that  had  climbed  into  the  vine,  seeking  an 
entrance  to  the  house.  The  mother-bird,  after  reflect- 
ing upon  her  ill-luck  about  a  week,  seemed  to  resolve 
to  try  a  different  system  of  tactics  and  to  throw  all 
appearances  of  concealment  aside.  She  built  a  nest 
a  few  yards  from  the  house  beside  the  drive,  upon  a 
smooth  piece  of  greensward.  There  was  not  a  weed 
or  a  shrub  or  anything  whatever  to  conceal  it  or  mark 
its  site.  The  structure  was  completed  and  incubation 
had  begun  before  I  discovered  what  was  going  on. 
"Well,  well,"  I  said,  looking  down  upon  the  bird 
almost  at  my  feet,  "  this  is  going  to  the  other  extreme 
indeed ;  now,  the  cats  will  have  you,"  The  desper- 
ate little  bird  sat  there  day  after  day,  looking  like  a 
brown  leaf  pressed  down  in  the  short  green  grass. 
As  the  weather  grew  hot,  her  position  became  very 
trying.  It  was  no  longer  a  question  of  keeping  the 
eggs  warm,  but  of  keeping  them  from  roasting.  The 
sun  had  no  mercy  on  her,  and  she  fairly  panted  in  the 
middle  of  the  day.  In  such  an  emergency  the  male 
robin  has  been  known  to  perch  above  the  sitting 
female  and  shade  her   with  his  outstretched  wings, 


THE    TRAGEDIES   OF   THE   NESTS.  27 

But  in  this  case  there  was  no  perch  for  the  male  bird, 
bad  he  been  disposed  to  make  a  sunshade  of  himself. 
I  thought  to  lend  a  hand  in  this  direction  myself, 
and  so  stuck  a  leafy  twig  beside  the  nest.  This  was 
probably  an  unwise  interference  ;  it  guided  disaster 
to  the  spot ;  the  nest  was  broken  up,  and  the  mother- 
bird  was  probably  caught,  as  I  never  saw  her  after- 
ward. 

For  several  previous  summers  a  pair  of  kingbirds 
fiad  reared,  unmolested,  a  brood  of  young  in  an  ap- 
ple-tree, only  a  few  yards  from  the  house ;  but  dur- 
ing this  season  disaster  overtook  them  also.  The 
nest  was  completed,  the  eggs  laid,  and  incubation  had 
just  begun,  when,  one  morning  about  sunrise,  I  heard 
loud  cries  of  distress  and  alarm  proceed  from  the  old 
apple-tree.  Looking  out  of  the  window  I  saw  a  crowt 
which  I  knew  to  be  a  fish-crow,  perched  upon  the 
edge  of  the  nest,  hastily  bolting  the  eggs.  The  parent 
birds,  usually  so  ready  for  the  attack,  seemed  over- 
come with  grief  and  alarm.  They  fluttered  about  in 
the  most  helpless  and  bewildered  manner,  and  it  was 
not  till  the  robber  fled  on  my  approach  that  they 
recovered  themselves  and  charged  upon  him.  The 
crow  scurried  away  with  upturned,  threatening  head, 
the  furious  kingbirds  fairly  upon  his  back.  The  pair- 
lingered  around  their  desecrated  nest  for  several  days, 
almost  silent,  and  saddened  by  their  loss,  and  then 
disappeared.  They  probably  made  another  trial  else- 
where. 

:  The  fish-crow  only  fishes  when  it  has  destroyed 
all  the  eggs  and  young  birds  it  can  find.  It  is  the 
most  despicable  thief  and  robber  among  our  feathered 
creatures.  From  May  to  August  it  is  gorged  with  the 
fledgelings  of  the  nest.     It  is  fortunate  that  its  range 


BIRDS. 

is  so  limited.  In  size  it  is  smaller  than  the  common 
crow,  and  is  a  much  less  noble  and  dignified  bird 
Its  caw  is  weak  and  feminine  —  a  sort  of  split  and 
abortive  caw,  that  stamps  it  the  sneak-thief  it  is. 
This  crow  is  common  farther  south,  but  is  not  found 
in  this  State,  so  far  as  I  have  observed,  except  in  the 
valley  of  the  Hudson. 

One  season  a  pair  of  them  built  a  nest  in  a  Norway 
spruce  that  stood  amid  a  dense  growth  of  other  or* 
namental  trees  near  a  large  unoccupied  house.  The}' 
aat  down  amid  plenty.  The  wolf  established  himself 
in  the  fold.  The  many  birds  —  robins,  thrushes, 
finches,  vireos,  pewees  —  that  seek  the  vicinity  of 
dwellings  (especially  of  these  large  country  residences 
with  their  many  trees  and  park-like  grounds),  for  the 
greater  safety  of  their  eggs  and  young,  were  the  easy 
and  convenient  victims  of  these  robbers.  They  plun- 
dered right  and  left,  and  were  not  disturbed  till  their 
young  were  nearly  fledged,  when  some  boys,  who 
had  long  before  marked  them  as  their  prize,  rifled 
the  nest. 

The  song-birds  nearly  all  build  low ;  their  cradle 
is  not  upon  the  tree- top.  It  is  only  birds  of  prey 
that  fear  danger  from  below  more  than  from  above, 
and  that  seek  the  higher  branches  for  their  nests.  A 
line  five  feet  from  the  ground  would  run  above  more 
than  half-  the  nests,  and  one  ten  feet  would  bound 
more  than  three  fourths  of  them.  It  is  only  the 
oriole  and  the  wood  pewee  that,  as  a  rule,  go  higher 
than  this.  The  crows  and  jays  and  other  enemies  of 
the  birds  have  learned  to  explore  this  belt  pretty 
thoroughly.  But  the  leaves  and  the  protective  color- 
ing of  most  nests  baffle  them  as  effectually,  no  doubt; 
as  they  do  the  professional  oologist.     The  nest  of  the 


THE    TRAGEDIES   OF   THE  NESTS.  29 

red-eyed  vireo  is  one  of  the  most  artfully  placed  in 
the  wood.  It  is  just  beyond  the  point  where  the  eye 
naturally  pauses  in  its  search  ;  namely,  on  the  extreme 
end  of  the  lowest  branch  of  the  tree,  usually  four  or 
*ive  feet  from  the  ground.  One  looks  up  and  down 
and  through  the  tree,  —  shoots  his  eye-beams  into  it 
as  he  might  discharge  his  gun  at  some  game  hidden 
there,  but  the  drooping  tip  of  that  low  horizontal 
branch  —  who  would  think  of  pointing  his  piece  just 
there?  If  a  crow  or  other  marauder  were  to  alight 
upon  the  branch  or  upon  those  above  -it,  the  nest 
would  be  screened  from  him  by  the  lar^e  leaf  that 
usually  forms  a  canopy  immediately  above  it.  The 
nest-hunter,  standing  at  the  foot  of  the  tree  and  look- 
ing straight  before  him,  might  discover  it  easily,  were 
it  not  for  its  soft,  neutral  gray  tint  which  blends  so 
thoroughly  with  the  trunks  and  branches  of  trees. 
Indeed,  I  think  there  is  no  nest  in  the  woods  —  no 
arboreal  nest  —  so  well  concealed.  The  last  one  I 
saw  was  pendent  from  the  end  of  a  low  branch  of  a 
maple,  that  nearly  grazed  the  clapboards  of  an  un- 
used hay-barn  in  a  remote  backwoods  clearing.  I 
peeped  through  a  crack  and  saw  the  old  birds  feed 
the  nearty  fledged  young  within  a  few  inches  of  my 
face.  And  yet  the  cow-bird  finds  this  nest  and  drops 
her  parasitical  egg  in  it.  Her  tactics  in  this  as  in 
other  cases  are  probably  to  watch  the  movements  of 
the  parent  bird.  She  may  often  be  seen  searching 
anxiously  through  the  trees  or  bushes  for  a  suitable 
nest,  yet  she  may  still  oftener  be  seen  perched  upon 
some  good  point  of  observation  watching  the  birds  as 
they  come  and  go  about  her.  There  is  no  doubt  that, 
in  many  cases,  the  cow-bird  makes  room  for  her  own 
illegitimate  egg  in  the  nest  by  removing  one  of  the 


30  BIRDS. 

bird's  own,  When  the  cow-bird  finds  two  or  more 
£ggs  in  a  nest  in  which  she  wishes  to  deposit  her  own, 
she  will  remove  one  of  them.  I  found  a  sparrow's 
nest  with  two  sparrow's  eggs  and  one  cow-bird's  egg^ 
and  another  egg  lying  a  foot  or  so  below  it  on  the 
ground.  I  replaced  the  ejected  egg,  and  the  next  day 
found  it  again  removed,  and  another  cow-bird's  egg 
in  its  place  ;  I  put  it  back  the  second  time,  when  it 
was  again  ejected,  or  destroyed,  for  I  failed  to  find 
it  anywhere.  Very  alert  and  sensitive  birds  like  the 
warblers  often  bury  the  strange  egg  beneath  a  second 
nest  built  on  top  of  the  old.  A  lady,  living  in  the 
suburbs  of  an  eastern  city,  one  morning  heard  cries 
of  distress  from  a  pair  of  house-wrens  that  had  a  nest 
in  a  honeysuckle  on  her  front  porch.  On  looking  out 
of  the  window,  she  beheld  this  little  comedy  —  com= 
edy  from  her  point  of  view,  but  no  doubt  grim-tragedy 
from  the  point  of  view  of  the  wrens  ;  a  cow-bird  with 
a  wren's  egg  in  its  beak  running  rapidly  along  the 
walk,  with  the  outraged  wrens  forming  a  procession 
behind  it,  screaming,  scolding,  and  gesticulating  as 
only  these  voluble  little  birds  can.  The  cow-bird 
had  probably  been  surprised  in  the  act  of  violating 
the  nest,  and  the  wrens  were  giving  her  a  piece  of 
tbeir  minds. 

Every  cow-bird  is  reared  at  the  expense  of  two  or 
more  song-birds.  For  every  one  of  these  dusky  little 
pedestrians  there  amid  the  grazing  cattle  there  are 
two  or  more  sparrows,  or  vireos,  or  warblers,  the  less 
It  is  a  big  price  to  pay  —  two  larks  for  a  bunting  — 
two  sovereigns  for  a  shilling  ;  but  Nature  does  not 
hesitate  occasionally  to  contradict  herself  in  just  this 
way.  The  young  of  the  cow-bird  is  disproportion- 
ately large  and  aggressive,  one  might  say  hoggish. 


THE   TRAGEDIES   OF  THE  NESTS.  31 

When  disturbed  it  will  clasp  the  nest  and  scream,  and 
snap  its  beak  threateningly.  One  hatched  out  in  a 
song-sparrow's  nest  which  was  under  my  observation, 
and  would  soon  have  overridden  and  overborne  the 
young  sparrow,  which  came  out  of  the  shelJ  a  fev7 
hours  later,  had  I  not  interfered  from  time  to  time 
and  lent  the  young  sparrow  a  helping  hand.  Every 
day  I  would  visit  the  nest  and  take  the  sparrow  out 
from  under  the  pot-bellied  interloper  and  place  it  on 
top,  so  that  presently  it  was  able  to  hold  its  own 
against  its  enemy.  Both  birds  became  fledged  and 
left  the  nest  about  the  same  time.  Whether  the  race 
was  an  even  one  after  that,  I  know  not. 

I  noted  but  two  warblers'  neste  during  that  season, 
one  of  the  black-throated  blue-back  and  one  of  the 
redstart,  —  the  latter  built  in  an  apple-tree  but  a  few 
yards  from  a  little  rustic  summer-house  where  I  idle 
away  many  summer  days.  The  lively  little  birds, 
darting  and  flashing  about,  attracted  my  attention  for 
a  week  before  I  discovered  their  nest.  They  prob- 
ably built  it  by  working  early  in  the  morning,  be- 
fore I  appeared  upon  the  scene,  as  I  never  saw  them 
with  material  in  their  beaks.  Guessing  from  their 
movements  that  the  nest  was  in  a  large  maple  that 
stood  near  by,  I  climbed  the  tree  and  explored  it 
thoroughly,  looking  especially  in  the  forks  of  the 
branches,  as  the  authorities  say  these  birds  build  in  a 
fork.  But  no  nest  could  I  find.  Indeed,  how  can 
one  by  searching  find  a  bird's  nest  ?  I  overshot  the 
mark ;  the  nest  was  much  nearer  me,  almost  under 
my  very  nose,  and  I  discovered  it,  not  by  searching, 
but  by  a  casual  glance  of  the  eye,  while  thinking  of 
other  matters.  The  bird  was  just  settling  upon  it  as 
I  looked  up  from  my  book  and  caught  her  in  the  act> 


82  BIRDS. 

The  nest  was  built  near  the  end  of  a  long,  knotty, 
horizontal  branch  of  an  apple-tree,  but  effectually  hid* 
den  by  the  grouping  of  the  leaves ;  it  had  three  eggs> 
one  of  which  proved  to  be  barren.  The  two  young 
birds  grew  apace,  and  were  out  of  the  nest  early  in 
the  second  week  ;  but  something  caught  one  of  them 
the  first  night.  The  other  probably  grew  to  maturity, 
as  it  disappeared  from  the  vicinity  with  its  parents 
after  some  days. 

The  blue-back's  nest  was  scarcely  a  foot  from  the 
ground,  in  a  little  bush  situated  in  a  low,  dense  wood 
of  hemlock  and  beech  and  maple,  amid  the  Catskills, 
—  a  deep,  massive,  elaborate  structure,  in  which  the 
sitting  bird  sank  till  her  beak  and  tail  alone  were  vis- 
ible above  the  brim.  It  was  a  misty,  chilly  day  when 
I  chanced  to  find  the  nest,  and  the  mother-bird  knew 
instinctively  that  it  was  not  prudent  to  leave  her  four 
half  incubated  eggs  uncovered  and  exposed  for  a  mo- 
ment. When  I  sat  down  near  the  nest  she  grew  very 
uneasy,  and  after  trying  in  vain  to  decoy  me  away  by 
suddenly  dropping  from  the  branches  and  dragging 
herself  over  the  ground  as  if  mortally  wounded,  sho 
approached  and  timidly  and  half  doubtingly  covered 
her  eggs  within  two  yards  of  where  I  sat.  I  disturbed 
her  several  times  to  note  her  ways.  There  came  to 
be  something  almost  appealing  in  her  looks  and  man- 
ner, and  she  would  keep  her  place  on  her  precious 
eggs  till  my  outstretched  hand  was  within  a  few  feet 
of  her.  Finally,  I  covered  the  cavity  of  the  nest  with 
a  dry  leaf.  This  she  did  not  remove  with  her  beak, 
but  thrust  her  head  deftlv  beneath  it  and  shook  it  off 
upon  the  ground.  Many  of  her  sympathizing  neigh- 
bors, attracted  by  her  alarm  note,  came  and  had  a 
peep  at  the  intruder  and  then  flew  away,  but  the  male 


THE   TRAGEDIES  OF  THE  NESTS.  33 

bird  did  not  appear  upon  the  scene.  The  final  his- 
tory of  this  nest  I  am  unable  to  give,  as  I  did  not 
again  visit  it  till  late  in  the  season,  when,  of  course,  it 
was  empty. 

Years  pass  without  my  finding  a  brown-thrasher's 
nest ;  it  is  not  a  nest  you  are  likely  to  stumble  upon 
in  your  walk ;  it  is  hidden  as  a  miser  hides  his  gold 
and  watched  as  jealously.     The  male  pours  out  his 
rich  and  triumphant  song  from   the  tallest   tree  he 
can  find,  and  fairly  challenges  you  to  come  and  look 
for  his  treasures  in  his  vicinity.     But  you  will  not  find 
them  if  you  go.     The  nest  is  somewhere  on  the  outer 
circle  of    his  song;    bs  is  never  so  imprudent  as  to 
take  up  his  stand  very  near  it.     The  artists  who  draw 
those  cosy  little  pictures  of  a  brooding  mother-bird 
with  the  male  perched  but  a  yard  away  in  full  song, 
do  not  copy  from  nature.    The  thrasher's  nest  I  found 
was  thirty   or  forty  rods  from  the  point  where  the 
male  was  wont  to  indulge  in  his  brilliant  recitative. 
It  was  in  an  open  field  under  a  low  ground-juniper. 
My  dog  disturbed  the  sitting  bird  as  I  was  passing 
near.     The  nest  could  be  seen  only  by  lifting  up  and 
parting  away  the  branches.     All  the  arts  of  conceal- 
ment had   been  carefully  studied.      It  was   the  last 
place  you  would  think  of  looking,  and,  if  you  did  look, 
nothing  was  visible  but  the  dense  green  circle  of  tho 
low-spreading  juniper.      When  you  approached,  the 
bird  would  keep  her  place  till  you  had  begun  to  stir 
the    branches,  when   she  would  start  out,   and,  just 
skimming  the  ground,  make  a  bright  brown  line  to 
the  near  fence  and  bushes.     I  confidently  expected 
that  this  nest  would  escape  molestation,  but  it  did  not. 
Its  discovery  by  myself  and  dog  probably  opened  tho 
door  for  ill  luck,  as  one  day,  not  long  afterward,  when 


34  BIRDS. 

I  peeped  in  upon  it,  it  was  empty.  The  proud  song 
of  the  male  had  ceased  from  his  accustomed  tree,  and 
the  pair  were  seen  no  more  in  that  vicinity. 

The  phcebe-bird  is  a  wise  architect,  and  perhaps 
enjoys  as  great  an  immunity  from  danger,  both  in 
its  person  and  its  nest,  as  any  other  bird.  Its  mod- 
est, ashen-gray  suit  is  the  color  of  the  rocks  where  it 
builds,  and  the  moss  of  which  it  makes  such  free  use 
gives  to  its  nest  the  look  of  a  natural  growth  or  ao» 
cretion.  But  when  it  comes  into  the  barn  or  under 
the  shed  to  build,  as  it  so  frequently  does,  the  moss  is 
rather  out  of  place.  Doubtless  in  time  the  bird  will 
take  the  hint,  and  when  she  builds  in  such  places  will 
leave  the  moss  out.  I  noted  but  two  nests,  the  sum- 
mer I  am  speaking  of :  one,  in  a  barn,  failed  of  issue, 
on  account  of  the  rats,  I  suspect,  though  the  little 
owl  may  have  been  the  depredator  ;  the  other,  in  the 
woods,  sent  forth  three  young.  This  latter  nest  was 
most  charmingly  and  ingeniously  placed.  I  discov- 
ered it  while  in  quest  of  pond-lilies,  in  a  long,  deep, 
level  stretch  of  water  in  the  woods.  A  large  tree  had 
blown  over  at  the  edge  of  the  water,  and  its  dense  mass 
of  up-turned  roots,  with  the  black,  peaty  soil  filling 
the  interstices,  was  like  the  fragment  of  a  wall  several 
feet  high,  rising  from  the  edge  of  the  languid  current. 
In  a  niche  in  this  earthy  wall,  and  visible  and  acces- 
sible only  from  the  water,  a  phcebe  had  built  her  nest 
and  reared  her  brood.  I  paddled  my  boat  up  and 
came  alongside  prepared  to  take  the  family  aboard. 
The  young,  nearly  ready  to  fly,  were  quite  undisturbed 
by  my  presence,  having  probably  been  assured  that  no 
danger  need  be  apprehended  from  that  side.  It  was 
not  a  likely  place  for  minks,  or  they  would  not  have 
been  so  secure. 


THE   TRAGEDIES   OF   TUB  NESTS.  35 

1  noted  but  one  nest  of  the  wood  pewee,  and  that, 
too,  like  so  many  other  nests,  failed  of  issue.  It  was 
saddled  upon  a  small  dry  limb  of  a  plane-tree  that 
^tood  by  the  roadside,  about  forty  feet  from  the  ground. 
tCvery  day  for  nearly  a  week,  as  I  passed  by  I  saw  the 
sitting  bird  upon  the  nest.  Then  one  morning  she 
was  not  in  her  place,  and  on  examination  the  nest 
proved  to  be  empty  —  robbed,  I  had  no  doubt,  by  the 
red  squirrels,  as  they  were  very  abundant  in  its  vicin- 
ity, and  appeared  to  make  a  clean  sweep  of  every  nest. 
The  wood  pewee  builds  an  exquisite  nest,  shaped  and 
finished  as  if  cast  in  a  mould.  It  is  modeled  without 
and  within  with  equal  neatness  and  art,  like  the  nest 
of  the  humming-bird  and  the  little  gray  gnat-catcher. 
The  material  is  much  more  refractory  than  that  used 
by  either  of  these  birds,  being,  in  the  present  case, 
dry,  fine  cedar  twigs ;  but  these  were  bound  into  a 
shape  as  rounded  and  compact  as  could  be  moulded 
out  of  the  most  plastic  material.  Indeed,  the  nest  of 
this  bird  looks  precisely  like  a  large,  lichen-covered, 
cup-shaped  excrescence  of  the  limb  upon  which  it  is 
placed.  And  the  bird,  while  bitting,  seems  entirely  at 
her  ease.  Most  birds  seem  to  make  very  hard  work 
of  incubation.  It  is  a  kind  of  martyrdom  which  ap- 
pears to  tax  all  their  powers  of  endurance.  They 
have  such  a  fixed,  rigid,  predetermined  look,  pressed 
down  into  the  nest  and  as  motionless  as  if  made  of 
cast-iron.  But  the  wood  pewee  is  an  exception.  She 
is  largely  visible  above  the  rim  of  the  nest.  Her  atti- 
tude is  easy  and  graceful ;  she  moves  her  head  this 
way  and  that,  and  seems  to  take  note  of  whatever  goes 
on  about  her ;  and  if  her  neighbor  were  to  drop  in  for 
a  little  social  chat,  she  could  doubtless  do  her  part. 
In  fact,  she  makes  light  and  easy  work  of  what,  to 


36  BIRDS- 

most  other  birds,  is  such  a  serious  and  engrossing 
matter.  If  it  does  not  look  like  play  with  her,  it  at 
least  looks  like  leisure  and  quiet  contemplation. 

There  is  no  nest-builder  that  suffers  more  from 
crows  and  squirrels  and  other  enemies  than  the  wood- 
thrush.  It  builds  as  openly  and  unsuspiciously  as  if 
it  thought  the  whole  world  as  honest  as  itself.  Its 
favorite  place  is  the  fork  of  a  sapling,  eight  or  ten  feet 
from  the  ground,  where  it  falls  an  easy  prey  to  every 
nest-robbe^  that  comes  prowling  through  the  woods 
and  groves.  It  is  not  a  bird  that  skulks  and  hides, 
like  the  cat-bird,  the  brown-thrasher,  the  chat,  or  the 
cheewink,  and  its  nest  is  not  concealed  with  the  same 
art  as  theirs.  Our  thrushes  are  all  frank,  open-man- 
nered birds ;  but  the  veery  and  the  hermit  build  upon 
the  ground,  where  they  at  least  escape  the  crows,  owls, 
and  jays,  and  stand  a  better  chance  to  be  overlooked 
by  the  red  squirrel  and  weasel  also ;  while  the  robin 
seeks  the  protection  of  dwellings  and  out-buildings. 
For  years  I  have  not  known  the  nest  of  a  wood-thrush 
to  succeed.  During  the  season  referred  to  I  observed 
but  two,  both  apparently  a  second  attempt,  as  the 
season  was  well  advanced,  and  both  failures.  In  one 
ease,  the  nest  was  placed  in  a  branch  that  an  apple- 
tree,  standing  near  a  dwelling,  held  out  over  the  high- 
way. The  structure  was  barely  ten  feet  above  the  mid- 
dle of  the  road,  and  would  just  escape  a  passing  load 
of  hay.  It  was  made  conspicuous  by  the  use  of  a 
large  fragment  of  newspaper  in  its  foundation  —  an 
unsafe  material  to  build  upon  in  most  cases.  What* 
ever  else  the  press  may  guard,  this  particular  news- 
paper did  not  guard  this  nest  from  harm.  It  saw  the 
egg  and  probably  the  chick,  but  not  the  fledgeling.  A 
murderous  deed  was  committed  above  the  public  high- 


THE    TRAGEDIES   OF   THE   NESTS.  37 

way,  but  whether  in  the  open  day  or  under  cover  of 
darkness  I  have  no  means  of  knowing.  The  frisky  red 
squirrel  was  doubtless  the  culprit.  The  other  nest 
was  in  a  maple  sapling,  within  a  few  yards  of  the 
little  rustic  summer-house  already  referred  to.  The 
first  attempt  of  the  season,  I  suspect,  had  failed  in 
a  more  secluded  place  under  the  hill ;  so  the  pair  had 
come  up  nearer  the  house  for  protection.  The  male 
sang  in  the  trees  near  by  for  several  days  before  I 
chanced  to  see  the  nest.  The  very  morning,  I  think, 
it  was  finished,  I  saw  a  red  squirrel  exploring  a  tree 
but  a  few  yards  away ;  he  probably  knew  what  the 
singing  meant  as  well  as  I  did.  I  did  not  see  the  in- 
side of  the  nest,  for  it  was  almost  instantly  deserted, 
the  female  having  probably  laid  a  single  egg,  which 
the  squirrel  had  devoured. 

If  I  were  a  bird,  in  building  my  nest  I  should  fol- 
low the  example  of  the  bobolink,  placing  it  in  the 
midst  of  a  broad  meadow,  where  there  was  no  spear  of 
grass,  or  flower*  or  growth  unlike  another  to  mark  its 
site.  I  judge  that  the  bobolink  escapes  the  dangers  to 
which  I  have  adverted  as  few  or  no  other  birds  do. 
Unless  the  mowers  come  along  at  an  earlier  date  than 
she  has  anticipated,  that  is,  before  July  1st,  or  a  skunk 
goes  nosing  through  the  grass,  which  is  unusual,  she  is 
as  safe  as  bird  well  can  be  in  the  great  open  of  nature. 
She  selects  the  most  monotonous  and  uniform  place 
she  can  find  amid  the  daisies  or  the  timothy  and  clover, 
and  places  her  simple  structure  upon  the  ground  in 
the  midst  of  it.  There  is  no  concealment,  except  as 
the  great  conceals  the  little,  as  the  desert  conceals  the 
pebble,  as  the  myriad  conceals  the  unit.  You  may 
find  the  nest  once,  if  your  course  chances  to  lead 
you  across  it  and  your  eye  is  quick  enough  to  note 


38  BIRDS. 

the  silent  brown  bird  as  she  darts  quickly  away; 
but  step  three  paces  in  the  wrong  direction,  and 
<7our  search  will  probably  be  fruitless.  My  friend  and 
1  found  a  nest  by  accident  one  day,  and  then  lost  it 
again  one  minute  afterward.  I  moved  away  a  few 
yards  to  be  sure  of  the  mother-bird,  charging  my 
friend  not  to  stir  from  his  tracks.  When  I  returned, 
he  had  moved  two  paces,  he  said  (he  had  really  moved 
four),  and  we  spent  a  half  hour  stooping  over  the 
daisies  and  the  buttercups,  looking  for  the  lost  clew. 
We  grew  desperate,  and  fairly  felt  the  ground  all  over 
with  our  hands,  but  without  avail.  I  marked  the 
spot  with  a  bush,  and  came  the  next  day,  and  with 
the  bush  as  a  centre,  moved  about  it  in  slowly 
increasing  circles,  covering,  I  thought,  nearly  every 
inch  of  ground  with  my  feet,  and  laying  hold  of  it  with 
all  the  visual  power  that  I  could  command,  till  my 
patience  was  exhausted,  and  I  gave  up,  baffled.  I  be- 
gan to  doubt  the  ability  of  the  parent  birds  themselves 
to  find  it,  and  so  secreted  myself  and  watched.  After 
much  delay,  the  male  bird  appeared  with  food  in  his 
beak,  and  satisfying  himself  that  the  coast  was  clear, 
dropped  into  the  grass  which  I  had  trodden  down  in 
my  search.  Fastening  my  eye  upon  a  particular  mea- 
dGW-lily,  I  walked  straight  to  the  spot,  bent  down,  and 
gazed  long  and  intently  into  the  grass.  Finally  my 
eye  separated  the  nest  and  its  young  from  its  sur- 
roundings. My  foot  had  barely  missed  them  in  my 
search,  but  by  how  much  they  had  escaped  my  eye  1 
could  not  tell.  Probably  not  by  distance  at  all,  but 
simply  by  unrecognition.  They  were  virtually  in- 
visible. The  dark  gray  and  yellowish  brown  dry 
grass  and  stubble  of  the  meadow-bottom  were  exactly 
copied  in  the  color  of  the  half-fledged  young.     More 


THE   TRAGEDIES   OF   THE  NESTS.  39 

than  that,  they  hugged  the  nest  so  closely  and  formed 
such  a  compact  mass,  that  though  there  were  five  of 
them,  they  preserved  the  unit  of  expression,  —  no 
single  head  or  form  was  defined ;  they  were  one,  and 
that  one  was  without  shape  or  color,  and  not  separa- 
ble, except  by  closest  scrutiny,  from  the  one  of  the 
meadow-bottom.  That  nest  prospered,  as  bobolinks' 
nests  doubtless  generally  do  ;  for,  notwithstanding 
the  enormous  slaughter  of  the  birds  during  their  fall 
migrations  by  Southern  sportsmen,  the  bobolink  ap- 
pears to  hold  its  own,  and  its  music  does  not  dimin- 
ish in  our  Northern  meadows. 

Birds  with  whom  the  struggle  for  life  is  the  sharpest 
seem  to  be  more  prolific  than  those  whose  nest  and 
young  are  exposed  to  fewer  dangers.  The  robin,  the 
sparrow,  the  pewee,  etc.,  will  rear,  or  make  the  at- 
tempt to  rear,  two  and  sometimes  three  broods  in  a 
season ;  but  the  bobolink,  the  oriole,  the  kingbird,  the 
goldfinch,  the  cedar-bird,  the  birds  of  prey,  and  the 
woodpeckers,  that  build  in  safe  retreats,  in  the  trunks 
of  trees,  have  usually  but  a  single  brood.  If  the  bob- 
olink reared  two  broods,  our  meadows  would  swarm 
with  them. 

I  noted  three  nests  of  the  cedar-bird  in  August  in 
a  single  orchard,  all  productive,  but  all  with  one  or 
more  unfruitful  eggs  in  them.  The  cedar-bird  is  the 
most  silent  of  our  birds,  having  but  a  single  fine  note, 
so  far  as  I  have  observed,  but  its  manners  are  very 
expressive  at  times.  No  bird  known  to  me  is  ca- 
pable of  expressing  so  much  silent  alarm  while  on 
the  nest  as  this  bird.  As  you  ascend  the  tree  and 
draw  near  it,  it  depresses  its  plumage  and  crest, 
stretches  up  its  neck,  and  becomes  the  very  picture 
of  fear.     Other  birds,  under  like  circumstances,  hardly 


40  BIRDS. 

change  their  expression  at  all  till  they  launch  into  the 
air,  when  by  their  voice  they  express  anger  rather 
than  alarm. 

I  have  referred  to  the  red  squirrel  as  a  destroyer 
of  the  eggs  and  young  of  birds.  I  think  the  mischief 
it  does  in  this  respect  can  hardly  be  overestimatedo 
Nearly  all  birds  look  upon  it  as  their  enemy,  and  at 
tack  and  annoy  it  when  it  appears  near  their  breed- 
ing haunts.  Thus,  I  have  seen  the  pewee,  the  cuckoo, 
the  robin,  and  the  wood-thrush  pursuing  it  with  angry 
voice  and  gestures.  A  friend  of  mine  saw  a  pair  of 
robins  attack  one  in  the  top  of  a  tall  tree  so  vigor^ 
ously  that  they  caused  it  to  lose  its  hold,  when  it  fell 
to  the  ground,  and  was  so  stunned  by  the  blow  as  to 
allow  him  to  pick  it  up.  If  you  wish  the  birds  to 
breed  and  thrive  in  your  orchard  and  groves,  kill 
every  red  squirrel  that  infests  the  place  ;  kill  every 
weasel  also.  The  weasel  is  a  subtle  and  arch  enemy 
of  the  birds.  It  climbs  trees  and  explores  them  with 
great  ease  and  nimbleness.  I  have  seen  it  do  so  on 
several  occasions.  One  day  my  attention  was  ar- 
rested by  the  angry  notes  of  a  pair  of  brown-thrash- 
ers that  were  flitting  from  bush  to  bush  along  an  old 
stone  row  in  a  remote  field.  Presently  I  saw  what  it 
was  that  excited  them  —  three  large  red  weasels,  or 
ermines  coming  along  the  stone  wall,  and  leisurely  anq 
half  playfully  exploring  every  tree  that  stood  near  it. 
They  had  probably  robbed  the  thrashers.  They  would 
go  up  the  trees  with  great  ease,  and  glide  serpent-like 
out  upon  the  main  branches.  When  they  descended 
the  tree  they  were  unable  to  come  straight  down,  like 
a  squirrel,  but  went  around  it  spirally.  How  boldly 
they  thrust  their  heads  out  of  the  wall,  and  eyed  me 
and  sniffed  me,  as  I  drew  near,  —  their  round,  thin 


THE    TRAGEDIES   OF   THE   NESTS.  41 

ears,  their  prominent,  glistening,  bead-like  eyes,  and 
the  curving,  snake-like  motions  of  the  head  and  neck 
being  very  noticeable.  They  looked  like  blood-suck erf 
and  egg-suckers.  They  suggested  something  extremely 
remorseless  and  cruel.  One  could  understand  the 
alarm  of  the  rats  when  they  discover  one  of  these 
fearless,  subtle,  and  circumventing  creatures  thread- 
ing their  holes.  To  flee  must  be  like  trying  to  escape 
death  itself.  I  was  one  day  standing  in  the  woods 
upon  a  flat  stone,  in  what  at  certain  seasons  was  the 
bed  of  a  stream,  when  one  of  these  weasels  came  un- 
dulating along  and  ran  under  the  stone  upon  which  I 
was  standing.  As  I  remained  motionless,  he  thrust 
out  his  wedge-shaped  head,  and  turned  it  back  above 
the  stone  as  if  half  in  mind  to  seize  my  foot ;  then  he 
drew  back,  and  presently  went  his  way.  These  wea- 
sels often  hunt  in  packs  like  the  British  stoat.  When 
I  was  a  boy,  my  father  one  day  armed  me  with  an  old 
musket  and  sent  me  to  shoot  chipmunks  around  the 
corn.  While  watching  the  squirrels,  a  troop  of  wea- 
sels tried  to  cross  a  bar-way  where  I  sat,  and  were  so 
bent  on  doing  it  that  I  fired  at  them,  boy-like,  simply 
to  thwart  their  purpose.  One  of  the  weasels  was  dis- 
abled by  my  shot,  but  the  troop  was  not  discouraged, 
and,  after  making  several  feints  to  cross,  one  of  them 
seized  the  wounded  one  and  bore  it  over,  and  the 
pack  disappeared  in  the  wall  on  the  other  side. 

Let  me  conclude  this  chapter  with  two  or  three 
more  notes  about  this  alert  enemy  of  the  birds  and 
the  lesser  animals,  the  weasel. 

A  farmer  one  day  heard  a  queer  growling  sound  in 
the  grass  ;  on  approaching  the  spot  he  saw  two  weasels 
contending  over  a  mouse  ;  each  had  hold  of  the  mouse 
pulling  in  opposite  directions,  and  were  so  absorbed  in 


42  BIRDS. 

the  struggle  that  the  farmer  cautiously  put  his  hands 
down  and  grabbed  them  both  by  the  back  of  the  neck 
He  put  them  in  a  cage,  and  offered  them  bread  and 
.other  food.  This  they  refused  to  eat,  but  in  a  few 
days  one  of  them  had  eaten  the  other  up,  picking  his 
ilxmes  clean  and  leaving  nothing  but  the  skeleton. 

The  same  farmer  was  one  day  in  his  cellar  when 
(two  rats  came  out  of  a  hole  near  him  in  great  haste, 
and  ran  up  the  cellar  wall  and  along  its  top  till  they 
came  to  a  floor  timber  that  stopped  their  progress, 
when  they  turned  at  bay,  and  looked  excitedly  back 
along  the  course  they  had  come.  In  a  moment  a  wea- 
sel, evidently  in  hot  pursuit  of  them,  came  out  of  the 
hole,  and  seeing  the  farmer,  checked  his  course  and 
darted  back.  The  rats  had  doubtlees  turned  to  give 
him  fight,  and  would  probably  have  been  a  match  for 
him. 

The  weasel  seems  to  track  its  game  by  scent.  A 
hunter  of  my  acquaintance  was  one  day  sitting  in  the 
woods,  when  he  saw  a  red  squirrel  run  with  great 
speed  up  a  tree  near  him,  and  out  upon  a  long  branch, 
from  which  he  leaped  to  some  rocks,  and  disappeared 
beneath  them.  In  a  moment  a  weasel  came  in  full 
course  upon  his  trail,  ran  up  the  tree,  then  out  along 
the  branch,  from  the  end  of  which  he  leaped  to  the 
2ocks  as  the  squirrel  did,  and  plunged  beneath  them. 

Doubtless  the  squirrel  fell  a  prey  to  him.  The 
•squirrel's  best  game  would  have  been  to  have  kept  to 
the  higher  tree-tops,  where  he  could  easily  have  dis- 
tanced the  weasel.  But  beneath  the  rocks  he  stood  a 
very  poor  chance.  I  have  often  wondered  what  keeps 
such  an  animal  as  the  weasel  in  check,  for  weasels  are 
quite  rare.  They  never  need  go  hungry,  for  rats  and 
squirrels  and  mice  and  birds  are  everywhere.     They 


THE    TRAGEDIES  OF    THE  NESTS.  43 

probably  do  not  fall  a  prey  to  any  other  animal,  and 
very  rarely  to  man.  But  the  circumstances  or  agen- 
eies  that  check  the  increase  of  any  species  of  animaJ 
or  bird  are,  as  Darwin  says,  very  obscure  and  but 
little  known. 


BEES. 


AN  IDYL  OF  THE  HONEY-BEE. 

There  is  no  creature  with  which  man  has  sui- 
rounded  himself  that  seems  so  much  like  a  product  of 
civilization,  so  much  like  the  result  of  development 
on  special  lines  and  in  special  fields,  as  the  honey-bee. 
Indeed,  a  colony  of  bees,  with  their  neatness  and  love 
of  order,  their  division  of  labor,  their  public  spirited* 
ness,  their  thrift,  their  complex  economies  and  their 
inordinate  love  of  gain,  seems  as  far  removed  from  a 
condition  of  rude  nature  as  does  a  walled  city  or  a 
cathedral  town.  Our  native  bee,  on  the  other  hand, 
"  the  burly,  dozing  humble-bee,"  affects  one  more  like 
the  rude,  untutored  savage.  He  has  learned  nothing 
from  experience.  He  lives  from  hand  to  mouth.  He 
luxuriates  in  time  of  plenty,  and  he  starves  in  times 
of  scarcity.  He  lives  in  a  rude  nest  or  in  a  hole  in 
the  ground,  and  in  small  communities ;  he  builds  a 
few  deep  cells  or  sacks  in  which  he  stores  a  little  honey 
and  bee-bread  for  his  young,  but  as  a  worker  in  wax 
jhe  is  of  the  most  primitive  and  awkward.  The  In- 
dian regarded  the  honey-bee  as  an  ill-omen.  She  was 
the  white  man's  fly.  In  fact  she  was  the  epitome  of 
the  white  man  himself.  She  has  the  white  mans 
craftiness,  his  industry,  his  architectural  skill,  his 
neatness  and  love  of  system,  his  foresight ;  and  above 


&6  BEES. 

all  his  eager,  miserly  habits.  The  honey-bee's  great 
ambition  is  to  be  rich,  to  lay  up  great  stores,  to 
possess  the  sweet  of  every  flower  that  blooms.  She  is 
more  than  provident.  Enough  will  not  satisfy  her. 
she  must  have  all  she  can  get  by  hook  or  by  crook. 
She  comes  from  the  oldest  country,  Asia,  and  thrives 
best  in  the  most  fertile  and  long-settled  lands. 

Yet  the  fact  remains  that  the  honey-bee  is  essen- 
tially a  wild  creature,  and  never  has  been  and  can- 
not be  thoroughly  domesticated.  Its  proper  home  is 
the  woods,  and  thither  every  new  swarm  counts  on 
going ;  and  thither  many  do  go  in  spite  of  the  care 
and  watchfulness  of  the  bee-keeper.  If  the  woods 
in  any  given  locality  are  deficient  in  trees  with  suit- 
able cavities,  the  bees  resort  to  all  sorts  of  make- 
shifts ;  they  go  into  chimneys,  into  barns  and  out- 
houses, under  stones,  into  rocks,  and  so  forth.  Sev- 
eral chimneys  in  my  locality  with  disused  flues  are 
taken  possession  of  by  colonies  of  bees  nearly  every 
season.  One  day,  while  bee-hunting,  I  developed  a 
line  that  wrent  toward  a  farm-house  where  I  had  rea- 
son to  believe  no  bees  were  kept.  I  followed  it  up 
and  questioned  the  farmer  about  his  bees.  He  said 
he  kept  no  bees,  but  that  a  swarm  had  taken  pos- 
session of  his  chimney,  and  another  had  gone  under 
the  clapboards  in  the  gable  end  of  his  house.  He 
fiad  taken  a  large  lot  of  honey  out  of  both  places 
the  year  before.  Another  farmer  told  me  that  one 
day  his  family  had  seen  a  number  of  bees  examining 
a  knot-hole  in  the  side  of  his  house  ;  the  next  day  as 
they  were  sitting  down  to  dinner  their  attention  was 
attracted  by  a  loud  humming  noise,  when  they  dis- 
covered a  swarm  of  bees  settling  upon  the  side  of  the 
house  and  pouring  into  the  knot-hole.  In  subsequent 
years  other  swarms  came  to  the  same  place. 


AN  IDYL    OF  THE  HONEY-BEE.  47 

Apparently,  every  swarm  of  bees  before  it  leaves 
the  parent  hive  sends  out  exploring  parties  to  look- 
up the  future  home.  The  woods  and  groves  are 
searched  through  and  through,  and  no  doubt  the  pri- 
vacy of  many  a  squirrel  and  many  a  wood  mouse  ia 
intruded  upon.  What  cozy  nooks  and  retreats  they 
do  spy  out,  so  much  more  attractive  than  the  painted 
hive  in  the  garden,  so  much  cooler  in  summer  and 
so  much  warmer  in  winter  ! 

The  bee  is  in  the  main  an  honest  citizen  ;  she  pre- 
fers legitimate  to  illegitimate  business ;  she  is  never 
an  outlaw  until  her  proper  sources  of  supply  fail  ; 
she  will  not  touch  honey  as  long  as  honey-yielding 
flowers  can  be  found  ;  she  always  prefers  to  go  to 
the  fountain-head,  and  dislikes  to  take  her  sweets  at 
second  hand.  But  in  the  fall,  after  the  flowers  have 
failed,  she  can  be  tempted.  The  bee-hunter  takes 
advantage  of  this  fact;  he  betrays  her  with  a  little 
honey.  He  wants  to  steal  her  stores,  and  he  first 
encourages  her  to  steal  his,  then  follows  the  thief  homo 
with  her  booty.  This  is  the  whole  trick  of  the  bee- 
hunter.  The  bees  never  suspect  his  game,  else  by  tak- 
ing a  circuitous  route  they  could  easily  baffle  him. 
But  the  honey-bee  has  absolutely  no  wit  or  cunning  out- 
side of  her  special  gifts  as  a  gatherer  and  storer  o$ 
honey.  She  is  a  simple-minded  creature,  and  can  be 
imposed  upon  by  any  novice.  Yet  it  is  not  every  nov« 
ice  that  can  find  a  bee-tree.  The  sportsman  may  track 
his  game  to  its  retreat  by  the  aid  of  his  dog,  but  in 
hunting  the  honey-bee  one  must  be  his  own  dog,  and 
track  his  game  through  an  element  m  which  it  leaves 
no  trail.  It  is  a  task  for  a  sharp,  quick  eye,  and  may 
test  the  resources  of  the  best  wood-craft.  One  autumn 
when  I  devoted  much  time  to  this  pursuit,  as  the  best 


48  BEES. 

means  of  getting  at  nature  and  the  open-air  exhilara> 
tion,  my  eye  became  so  trained  that  bees  were  nearly 
as  easy  to  it  as  birds.  I  saw  and  heard  bees  wherever 
I  v/ent.  One  day,  standing  on  a  street  corner  in  a 
oreat  city,  I  saw  above  the  trucks  and  the  traffic  a  line 
of  bees  carrying  off  sweets  from  some  grocery  or  com 
jlectionery  shop. 

One  looks  upon  the  woods  with  a  new  interest  wheB 
lie  suspects  they  hold  a  colony  of  bees.  What  a 
pleasing  secret  it  is  ;  a  tree  with  a  heart  of  comb- 
honey,  a  decayed  oak  or  maple  with  a  bit  of  Sicily  or 
Mount  Hymettus  stowed  away  in  its  trunk  or  branches ; 
secret  chambers  where  lies  hidden  the  wealth  of  ten 
thousand  little  freebooters,  great  nuggets  and  wedges 
of  precious  ore  gathered  with  risk  and  labor  from 
.   every  field  and  wood  about. 

But  if  you  would  know  the  delights  of  bee-hunt- 
ing, and  how  many  sweets  such  a  trip  yields  beside* 
honey,  come  with  me  some  bright,  warm,  late  Sep~ 
tember  or  early  October  day.  It  is  the  golden  season 
of  the  year,  and  any  errand  or  pursuit  that  takes  us 
abroad  upon  the  hills  or  by  the  painted  woods  and 
along  the  amber  colored  streams  at  such  a  time  is 
enough.  So,  with  haversacks  filled  with  grapes  and 
peaches  and  apples  and  a  bottle  of  milk,  —  for  we 
shall  not  be  home  to  dinner,  —  and  armed  with  a 
compass,  a  hatchet,  a  pail,  and  a  box  with  a  piece  of 
comb-honey  neatly  fitted  into  it  —  any  box  the  size  of 
your  hand  with  a  lid  will  do  nearly  as  well  as  the  elab- 
orate and  ingenious  contrivance  of  the  regular  bee- 
hunter  —  we  sally  forth.  Our  course  at  first  lies  along 
the  highway,  under  great  chestnut-trees  whose  nuts 
are  just  dropping,  then  through  an  orchard  and 
across  a  little  creek,  thence  gently  rising  through  a 


AN  IDYL   OF  THE   HONEY-BEE.  49 

long  series  of  cultivated  fields  toward  some  high, 
uplying  land,  behind  which  rises  a  rugged  woo.  | 
ridge  or  mountain,  the  most  sightly  point  in  all  this 
tion.  Behind  this  ridge  for  several  miles  the  country 
is  wild,  wooded,  and  rocky,  and  is  no  doubt  the 
home  of  many  wild  swarms  of  bees.  What  a  -lee- 
ful  uproar  the  robins,  cedar-birds,  high-holes,  and  cow 
black-birds  make  amid  the  black  cherry-trees  as  we 
pass  along.  The  raccoons,  too,  have  been  here  after 
black  cherries,  and  we  see  their  marks  at  various 
points.  Several  crows  are  walking  about  a  newly 
sowed  wheat  field  we  pass  through,  and  we  pause  to 
note  their  graceful  movements  and  glossy  coats.  I 
have  seen  no  bird  walk  the  ground  with  just  the 
same  air  the  crow  does.  It  is  not  exactly  pride ; 
there  is  no  strut  or  swagger  in  it,  though  perhaps 
just  a  little  condescension ;  it  is  the  contented,  com- 
plaisant, and  self-possessed  gait  of  a  lord  over  his 
domains.  All  these  acres  are  mine,  he  says,  aud  all 
these  crops ;  men  plow  and  sow  for  me,  and  I  stay 
here  or  go  there,  and  find  life  sweet  and  good 
wherever  I  am.  The  hawk  looks  awkward  and  out 
of  place  on  the  ground ;  the  game  birds  hurry  and 
skulk,  but  the  crow  is  at  home  and  treads  the 
earth  as  if  there  were  none  to  molest  or  make  him 
afraid. 

The  crows  we  have  always  with  us,  but  it  is  not 
every  day  or  every  season  that  one  sees  an  eagle. 
Hence  I  must  preserve  the  memory  of  one  I  saw 
the  last  day  I  went  bee-hunting.  As  I  was  laboring 
up  the  side  of  a  mountain  at  the  head  of  a  valley, 
the  noble  bird  sprang  from  the  top  of  a  dry  tree 
above  me  and  came  sailing  directly  over  my  head.  I 
saw  him  bend  his  eye  down  upon  me,   and  I  could 


50  BEES. 

hear  the  low  hum  of  his  plumage,  as  if  the  web  of 
every  quill  in  his  great  wings  vibrated  in  his  strong, 
level  flight.  I  watched  him  as  long  as  my  eye 
could  hold  him.  When  he  was  fairly  clear  of  the 
mountain  he  began  that  sweeping  spiral  movement  ir 
which  he  climbs  the  sky.  Up  and  up  he  went  with* 
out  once  breaking  his  majestic  poise  till  he  appeared) 
to  sight  some  far-off  alien  geography,  when  he 
bent  his  course  thitherward  and  gradually  vanished 
in  the  blue  depths.  The  eagle  is  a  bird  of  large 
ideas,  he  embraces  long  distances  ;  the  continent  is 
his  home.  I  never  look  upon  one  without  emotion; 
I  follow  him  with  my  eye  as  long  as  I  can.  I 
think  of  Canada,  of  the  Great  Lakes,  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  of  the  wild  and  sounding  sea-coast. 
The  waters  are  his,  and  the  woods  and  the  inacces- 
sible cliffs.  He  pierces  behind  the  veil  of  the  storm, 
and  his  joy  is  height  and  depth  and  vast  spaces. 

We  go  out  of  our  way  to  touch  at  a  spring  run  in 
the  edge  of  the  woods,  and  are  lucky  to  find  a  single 
scarlet  lobelia  lingering  there.  It  seems  almost  to 
light  up  the  gloom  with  its  intense  bit  of  color.  Be- 
side a  ditch  in  a  field  beyond  we  find  the  great  blue 
lobelia  {Lobelia  syphilitica),  and  near  it  amid  the 
weeds  and  wild  grasses  and  purple  asters  the  most 
beautiful  of  our  fall  flowers,  the  ^ringed  gentian,. 
What  a  rare  and  delicate,  almost  aristocratic  look  the 
gentian  has  amid  its  coarse,  unkempt  surroundingse 
It  does  not  lure  the  bee,  but  it  lures  and  holds  every 
passing  human  eye.  If  we  strike  through  the  corner 
of  yonder  woods,  where  the  ground  is  moistened  by 
hidden  springs  and  where  there  is  a  little  opening 
amid  the  trees,  we  shall  find  the  closed  gentian,  a 
rare  flower  in  this  locality.     I  had  walked  this  way 


AN  IDYL   OF  THE  HONEY-BEE.  51 

many  times  before  I  chanced  upon  its  retreat ;  and 
then  I  was  following  a  line  of  bees.  I  lost  the  bees 
but  I  got  the  gentians.  How  curiously  this  flower 
looks,  with  its  deep  blue  petals  folded  together  so 
tightly  —  a  bud  and  yet  a  blossom.  It  is  the  nun 
among  our  wild  flowers,  a  form  closely  veiled  and 
cloaked.  The  buccaneer  bumble-bee  sometimes  tries 
to  rifle  it  of  its  sweets.  I  have  seen  the  blossom  witb 
the  bee  entombed  in  it.  He  had  forced  his  way  into 
ihe  virgin  corolla  as  if  determined  to  know  its  secret, 
but  he  had  never  returned  with  the  knowledge  he  had 
gained. 

After  a  refreshing  walk  of  a  couple  of  miles  we 
reach  a  point  where  we  will  make  our  first  trial  —  a 
high  stone  wall  that  runs  parallel  with  the  wooded 
ridge  referred  to,  and  separated  from  it  by  a  broad 
field.  There  are  bees  at  work  there  on  that  golden- 
rod,  and  it  requires  but  little  manoeuvring  to  sweep 
one  into  our  box.  Almost  any  other  creature  rudely 
and  suddenly  arrested  in  its  career  and  clapped  into 
a  cage  in  this  way  would  show  great  confusion  and 
alarm.  The  bee  is  alarmed  for  a  moment,  but  the  bee 
has  a  passion  stronger  than  its  love  of  life  or  fear  of 
death,  namely,  desire  for  honey,  not  simply  to  eat, 
but  to  carry  home  as  booty.  "  Such  rage  of  honey  in. 
their  bosom  beats,"  says  Virgil.  It  is  quick  to  catch 
the  scent  of  honey  in  the  box,  and  as  quick  to  fall 
to  filling  itself.  We  now  set  the  box  down  upon  the 
wall  and  gently  remove  the  cover.  The  bee  is  head 
and  shoulders  in  one  of  the  half-filled  cells,  and  is 
oblivious  to  everything  else  about  it.  Come  rack, 
come  ruin,  it  will  die  at  work.  We  step  back  a  few- 
paces,  and  sit  down  upon  the  ground  so  as  to  bring 
the  box  against  the  blue  sky  as  a  background.     In 


52  BEES. 

two  or  three  minutes  the  bee  is  seen  rising  slowly 
and  heavily  from  the  box.  It  seems  loath  to  leave  so 
much  honey  behind  and  it  mark«  the  place  well.  It 
mounts  aloft  in  a  rapidly  increasing  spiral,  surveying 
ihe  near  and  minute  objects  first,  then  the  larger  anal 
flnore  distant,  till  having  circled  about  the  spot  five 
or  six  times  and  taken  all  its  bearings  it  darts  away 
for  home.  It  is  a  good  eye  that  holds  fast  to  the  bee 
till  it  is  fairly  off.  Sometimes  one's  head  will  swim 
following  it,  and  often  one's  eyes  are  put  out  by  the 
sun.  This  bee  gradually  drifts  down  the  hill,  then 
strikes  away  toward  a  farm-house  half  a  mile  away, 
where  I  know  bees  are  kept.  Then  we  try  another 
and  another,  and  the  third  bee,  much  to  our  satisfac- 
tion, goes  straight  toward  the  woods.  We  could  see 
the  brown  speck  against  the  darker  background  for 
many  yards.  The  regular  bee-hunter  professes  to  be 
able  to  tell  a  wild  bee  from  a  tame  one  by  the  color, 
the  former,  he  says,  being  lighter.  But  there  is  no 
difference  ;  they  are  both  alike  in  color  and  in  man- 
ner, ^oung  bees  are  lighter  than  old,  and  that  is  all 
there  is  of  it.  If  a  bee  lived  many  years  in  the 
woods  it  would  doubtless  come  to  have  some  distin- 
guishing marks,  but  the  life  of  a  bee  is  only  a  few 
months  at  .the  farthest,  and  no  change  is  wrought  in 
tthis  brief  time. 

Our  bees  are  all  soon  back,  and  more  with  them, 
for  we  have  touched  the  box  here  and  there  with  the 
3ork  of  a  bottle  of  anise  oil,  and  this  fragrant  and 
pungent  oil  will  attract  bees  half  a  mile  or  more. 
When  no  flowers  can  be  found,  this  is  the  quickest 
8?ay  to  obtain  a  bee. 

It  is  a  singular  fact  that  when  the  bee  first  finds 
the  hunter's  box  its  first  feeling  is  one  of  anger ;  it 


AN  IDYL   OF   THE  HONEY-BEE,  53 

is  as  mad  as  a  hornet ;  its  tone  changes,  it  sounds  its 
shrill  war  trumpet  and  darts  to  and  fro,  and  rivef 
vent  to  its  rage  and  indignation  in  no  uncertain  man 
ner.  It  seems  to  scent  foul  play  at  once.  It  saws, 
"Here  is  robbery;  here  is  the  spoil  of  some  hive, 
may  be  my  own,"  and  its  blood  is  up.  But  its  ruling 
passion  soon  comes  to  the  surface,  its  avarice  gets 
the  better  of  its  indignation,  and  it  seems  to  say, 
"  Well,  I  had  better  take  possession  of  this  and  carry 
it  home."  So  after  many  feints  and  approaches  and 
dartings  off  with  a  loud  angry  hum  as  if  it  would 
none  of  it,  the  bee  settles  down  and  fills  itself. 

It  does  not  entirely  cool  off  and  get  soberly  to 
work  till  it  has  made  two  or  three  trips  home  with 
its  booty.  When  other  bees  come,  even  if  all  from 
the  same  swarm,  they  quarrel  and  dispute  over  the 
box,  and  clip  and  dart  at  each  other  like  bantam 
cocks.  Apparently  the  ill  feeling  which  the  sight  of 
the  honey  awakens  is  not  one  of  jealousy  or  rivalry, 
but  wrath. 

A  bee  will  usually  make  three  *>r  four  trips  from 
the  hunter's  box  before  it  brings  back  a  companion. 
I  suspect  the  bee  does  not  tell  its  fellows  what  it  has 
found,  but  that  they  smell  out  the  secret ;  it  doubt- 
less bears  some  evidence  with  it  upon  its  feet  or  pro* 
boscis  that  it  has  been  upon  honey-comb  and  net  upon 
flowers,  and  its  companions  take  the  hint  and  follow, 
arriving  always  many  seconds  behind.  Then  the 
quantity  and  quality  of  the  booty  woidd  also  betraj 
it.  No  doubt,  also,  there  are  plenty  of  gossips  about 
a  hive  that  note  and  tell  everything.  "  Oh,  did  you 
see  that  ?  Peggy  Mel  came  in  a  few  moments  ago 
m  great  haste,  and  one  of  the  up-stairs  packers  says 
she  was  loaded  till  she  groaned  with  apple- blossom 


54  BEES. 

honey  which  she  deposited,  and  then  rushed  off  again 
like  mad.  Apple-blossom  honey  in  October  !  Fee, 
fi,  fo,  fum  !     I  smell  something  !     Let 's  after." 

In  about  half  an  hour  we  have  three  well-defined 
,'ines  of  bees  established  —  two  to  farm-houses  and 
one  to  the  woods,  and  our  box  is  being  rapidly  de= 
pleted  of  its  honey.  About  every  fourth  bee  goes  to 
the  woods,  and  now  that  they  have  learned  the  way 
thoroughly  they  do  not  make  the  long  preliminary 
whirl  above  the  box,  but  start  directly  from  it.  The 
woods  are  rough  and  dense  and  the  hill  steep,  and  we 
do  not  like  to  follow  the  line  of  bees  until  we  have 
tried  at  least  to  settle  the  problem  as  to  the  distance 
they  go  into  the  woods  —  whether  the  tree  is  on  this 
side  of  the  ridge  or  in  the  depth  of  the  forest  on 
the  other  side.  So  we  shut  up  the  box  when  it  is 
full  of  bees  and  carry  it  about  three  hundred  yard? 
along  the  wall  from  which  we  are  operating.  When 
liberated,  the  bees,  as  they  always  will  in  such  cases, 
go  off  in  the  same  directions  they  have  been  going; 
they  do  not  seem  to  know  that  they  have  been  moved. 
But  other  bees  have  followed  our  scent,  and  it  is  not 
many  minutes  before  a  second  line  to  the  woods  is 
established.  This  is  called  cross-lining  the  bees.  The 
new  line  makes  a  sharp  angle  with  the  other  line* 
and  we  know  at  once  that  the  tree  is  only  a  few 
rods  into  the  woods.  The  two  lines  we  have  estab- 
jlished  form  two  sides  of  a  triangle  of  which  the  wall 
Is  the  base  ;  at  the  apex  of  the  triangle,  or  where  the 
two  lines  meet  in  the  woods,  we  are  sure  to  find  the 
tree.  We  quickly  follow  up  these  lines,  and  where 
they  cross  each  other  on  the  side  of  the  hill  we  scan 
©very  tree  closely.  I  pause  at  the  foot  of  an  oak 
and  examine  a  hole  near  the  root ;  now  the  bees  are 


AN  IDYL   OF   THE  HONEY-BEE.  55 

m  this  tree  and  their  entrance  is  on  the  upper  side 
near  the  ground,  not  two  feet  from  the  hole  I  peer 
into,  and  yet  so  quiet  and  secret  is  their  going  and 
coming  that  I  fail  to  discover  them  and  pass  on  up 
the  hill.  Failing  in  this  direction,  I  return  to  the 
oak  again,  and  then  perceive  the  bees  going  out  in  a 
small  crack  in  the  tree.  The  bees  do  not  know  they 
are  found  out  and  that  the  game  is  in  our  hands,  and 
are  as  oblivious  of  our  presence  as  if  we  were  ants 
or  crickets.  The  indications  are  that  the  swarm  is  a 
small  one,  and  the  store  of  honey  trifling.  In  "  tak- 
ing up  "  a  bee-tree  it  is  usual  first  to  kill  or  stupefy 
the  bees  with  the  fumes  of  burning  sulphur  or  with 
tobacco  smoke.  But  this  course  is  impracticable  on 
the  present  occasion,  so  we  boldly  and  ruthlessly  as- 
sault the  tree  with  an  ax  we  have  procured.  At  the 
first  blow  the  bees  set  up  a  loud  buzzing,  but  we 
have  no  mercy,  and  the  side  of  the  cavity  is  soon  cut 
away  and  the  interior  with  its  white-yellow  mass  of 
comb-honey  is  exposed,  and  not  a  bee  strikes  a  blow 
in  defense  of  its  all.  This  may  seem  singular,  but 
it  has  nearly  always  been  my  experience.  When  a 
swarm  of  bees  are  thus  rudely  assaulted  with  an  ax, 
they  evidently  think  the  end  of  the  world  has  come, 
and,  like  true  misers  as  they  are,  each  one  seizes  as 
much  of  the  treasure  as  it  can  hold  ;  in  other  words,' 
they  all  fall  to  and  gorge  themselves  with  honey,  and 
calmly  await  the  issue.  When  in  this  condition  they 
make  no  defense  and  will  not  sting  unless  taken  hold 
of.  In  fact  they  are  as  harmless  as  flies.  Bees  are 
always  to  be  managed  with  boldness  and  deeision. 
Any  half-way  measures,  any  timid  poking  about,  any 
feeble  attempts  to  reach  their  honey,  are  sure  to  be 
quickly  resented.     The  popular  notion  that  bees  have 


56  BEES. 

a  special  antipathy  toward  certain  persons  and  a  lik« 
ing  for  certain  others  has  only  this  fact  at  the  bottom 
of  it ;  they  will  sting  a  person  who  is  afraid  of  them 
and  goes  skulking  and  dodging  about,  and  they  will 
not  sting  a  person  who  faces  them  boldly  and  has  nc 
dread  of  them.  They  are  like  dogs.  The  way  tc 
disarm  a  vicious  dog  is  to  show  him  you  do  not  fear 
him  ;  it  is  his  turn  to  be  afraid  then.  I  never  had 
any  dread  of  bees  and  am  seldom  stung  by  them.  I 
have  climbed  up  into  a  large  chestnut  that  contained 
a  swarm  in  one  of  its  cavities  and  chopped  them  out 
with  an  ax,  being  obliged  at  times  to  pause  and  brush 
uhe  bewildered  bees  from  my  hands  and  face,  and  not 
been  stung  once.  I  have  chopped  a  swarm  out  of 
an  apple-tree  in  June  and  taken  out  the  cards  of 
honey  and  arranged  them  in  a  hive,  and  then  dipped 
out  the  bees  with  a  dipper,  and  taken  the  whole 
home  with  me  in  pretty  good  condition,  with  scarcely 
any  opposition  on  the  part  of  the  bees.  In  reach- 
ing your  hand  into  the  cavitv  to  detach  and  remove 
the  comb  you  are  pretty  sure  to  get  stung,  for  when 
you  touch  the  "  business  end  "  of  a  bee,  it  will  sting 
even  though  its  head  be  off.  But  the  bee  carries  the 
antidote  to  its  own  poison.  The  best  remedy  for  bee 
sting  is  honey,  and  when  your  hands  are  besmeared 
with  honey,  as  they  are  sure  to  be  on  such  occasions, 
the  wound  is  scarcely  more  painful  than  the  prick  of! 
a  pin.  Assault  your  bee-tree,  then,  boldly  with  your 
ax,  and  you  will  find  that  when  the  honey  is  exposed 
every  bee  has  surrendered  and  the  whole  swarm  is 
cowering  in  helpless  bewilderment  and  terror.  Our 
tree  yields  only  a  few  pounds  of  honey,  not  enough 
to  have  lasted  the  swarm  till  January,  but  no  matter? 
we  have  the  less  burden  to  carry. 


AN  IDYL    OF   THE   HONEY-BEE.  57 

In  the  afternoon  we  go  nearly  half  a  mile  farther 
along  the  ridge  to  a  corn-field  that  lies  immediately 
in  front  of  the  highest  point  of  the  mountain.  The 
view  is  superb ;  the  ripe  autumn  landscape  rolls  away 
to  the  east,  cut  through  by  the  great  placid  river  ;  in 
the  extreme  north  the  wall  of  the  Catskills  stands  out 
clear  and  strong,  while  in  the  south  the  mountains 
of  the  Highlands  bound  the  view.  The  day  is  warn 
and  the  bees  are  very  busy  there  in  that  neglected 
corner  of  the  field,  rich  in  asters,  flea-bane,  ant", 
golden-rod.  The  corn  has  been  cut,  and  upon  a  stout, 
but  a  few  rods  from  the  woods,  which  here  drop 
quickly  down  from  the  precipitous  heights,  we  set  up 
our  bee-box,  touched  again  with  the  pungent  oil.  In 
a  few  moments  a  bee  has  found  it ;  she  comes  up  to 
leeward,  following  the  scent.  On  leaving  the  box  she 
goes  straight  toward  the  woods.  More  bees  quickly 
come,  and  it  is  not  long  before  the  line  is  well  estab- 
lished. Now  we  have  recourse  to  the  same  tactics 
we  employed  before,  and  move  along  the  ridge  to 
another  field  to  get  our  cross  line.  But  the  bees  still 
go  in  almost  the  same  direction  they  did  from  the 
corn  stout.  The  tree  is  then  either  on  the  top  of  the 
mountain,  or  on  the  other  or  west  side  of  it.  AA  e 
hesitate  to  make  the  plunge  into  the  woods  and  seek 
to  scale  those  precipices,  for  the  eye  can  plainly  see 
what  is  before  us.  As  the  afternoon  sun  gets  lower, 
the  bees  are  seen  with  wonderful  distinctness.  Thcj 
fly  toward  and  under  the  sun  and  are  in  a  strong 
light,  while  the  near  woods  which  form  the  back- 
ground are  in  deep  shadow.  They  look  like  lai 
luminous  motes.  Their  swiftly  vibrating,  transpaivi  t 
wings  surround  their  bodies  with  a  shining  minima 
that   makes  them  visible  for  a  long  distance.     They 


58  BEES. 

seem   magnified  many  times.     We  see  them  bridge 
the  little  gulf  between  us  and  the  woods,  then  rise 
up   over  the    tree-tops  with  their  burdens,  swerving 
neither  to  the  right  hand  nor  to  the  left.     It  is  al- 
most  pathetic   to    see   them   labor    so,    climbing   the 
mountain  and  unwittingly  guiding  us  to  their  treas- 
ures.    When  the  sun  gets  down  so  that  his  direction 
corresponds  exactly  with  the  course  of  the  bees,  we 
make   the  plunge.     It  proves  even   harder  climbing 
than  we  had  anticipated;  the  mountain  is  faced  by 
a  broken  and  irregular  wall  of  rock,  up  which  we  pull' 
ourselves    slowly   and    cautiously    by  main    strength. 
In    half   an  hour,    the    perspiration    streaming   from 
every  pore,  we    reach  the    summit.     The  trees   here 
are  all  small,  a  second  growth,  and  we  are  soon  con- 
vinced the  bees  are  not  here.     Then  down  we  go  on 
the  other  side,  clambering  down  the  rocky  stair-ways 
till  we  reach  quite  a  broad  plateau  that  forms  some- 
thing- like   the    shoulder   of   the  mountain.     On  the 
brink  of  this  there  are  many  large  hemlocks,  and  we 
scan  them  closely  and  rap  upon  them  with  our  ax. 
But  not  a  bee  is  seen  or  heard  ;  we  do  not  seem  as 
near  the  tree  as  we  were  in  the  fields  below ;  yet  if 
some  divinity  would  only  whisper  the  fact  to  us  we 
are  within  a  few  rods  of  the  coveted  prize,  which  is 
not  in  one  of  the  large  hemlocks  or  oaks  that  absorb 
our  attention,  but  in  an  old  stub  or  stump  not  six  feet 
high,   and   which  we  have    seen    and    passed  several 
times  without   giving  it  a  thought.     We  go  farther 
down  the  mountain  and  beat  about  to  the  right  and 
left  and  get  entangled  in  brush  and  arrested  by  pre- 
cipices, and  finally  as  the  day  is  nearly  spent,  give 
up  the  search  and  leave  the  woods  quite  baffled,  but 
resolved  to  return  on  the  morrow.     The  next  day  we 


AN  IDYL   OF   THE   HONEY-BEE,  >J 

come  back  and  commence  operations  in  an  openin" 
in  the  woods  well  down  on  the  side  of  the  mountain, 
where  we  gave  up  the  search.  Our  box  is  soon 
swarming  with  the  eager  bees,  and  they  go  back  to- 
ward the  summit  we  have  passed.  We  follow  ba 
and  establish  a  new  line  where  the  ground  will  pel 
mit ;  then  another  and  still  another,  and  yet  the  rids 
die  is  not  solved.  One  time  we  are  south  of  them,, 
then  north,  then  the  bees  get  up  through  the  trees 
and  we  cannot  tell  where  they  go.  But  after  much 
searching,  and  after  the  mystery  seems  rather  to 
deepen  than  to  clear  up,  we  chance  to  pause  beside 
the  old  stump.  A  bee  comes  out  of  a  small  open- 
ing, like  that  made  by  ants  in  decayed  wood,  rubs  its 
eyes  and  examines  its  antennae,  as  bees  always  do 
before  leaving  their  hive,  then  takes  flight.  At  the 
same  instant  several  bees  come  by  us  loaded  with  our 
honey  and  settle  home  with  that  peculiar  low  com*' 
placent  buzz  of  the  well-filled  insect.  Here  then  is 
our  idyl,  our  bit  of  Virgil  and  Theocritus,  in  a  de- 
cayed stump  of  a  hemlock  tree.  We  could  tear  it 
open  with  our  hands,  and  a  bear  would  find  it  an  easy 
prize,  and  a  rich  one  too,  for  we  take  from  it  fifty 
pounds  of  excellent  honey.  The  bees  have  been 
here  many  years,  and  have  of  course  sent  out  swarm 
after  swarm  into  the  wilds.  They  have  protectee 
themselves  against  the  weather  and  strengthened 
their  shaky  habitation  by  a  copious  use  of  wax. 

When  a  bee-tree  is  thus  "  taken  up  "  in  the  middle 
of  the  day,  of  course  a  good  many  bees  are  away  from 
home  and  have  not  heard  the  news.  When  they  re- 
turn and  find  the  ground  flowing  with  honey,  and 
piles  of  bleeding  combs  lying  about,  they  apparently 
do  not  recognize  the  place,  and  their  first  instinct  is 


60  BEES. 

to  fall  to  and  fill  themselves;  this  done,  their  next 
thought  is  to  carry  it  home,  so  they  rise  up  slowly 
through  the  branches  of  the  trees  till  they  have  at- 
tained an  altitude  that  enables  them  to  survey  the 
scene,  when  they  seem  to  say,  "  Why,  this  is  home," 
and  down  they  come  again ;  beholding  the  wreck  and 
ruins  once  more  they  still  think  there  is  some  mis- 
take, and  get  up  a  second  or  a  third  time  and  then 
drop  back  pitifully  as  before.  It  is  the  most  pathetic 
sight  of  all,  the  surviving  and  bewildered  bees  strug- 
gling to  save  a  few  drops  of  their  wasted  treasures. 

Presently,  if  there  is  another  swarm  in  the  woods, 
robber-bees  appear.     You  may  know  them   by  their 
saucy,  chiding,  devil-may-care  hum.     It  is  an  ill  wind 
that  blows  nobody  good,  and  they  make  the  most  of 
the  misfortune  of  their  neighbors  ;  and  thereby  pave 
the  way  for  their  own  ruin.     The  hunter  marks  their 
course  and  the  next  day  looks  them  up.     On  this  oc- 
casion the  day  was  hot  and  the  honey  very  fragrant, 
and  a  line  of  bees  was   soon  established   S.  S.  W. 
Though  there  was  much  refuse  honey  in  the  old  stub, 
and  though  little  golden  rills  trickled  down  the  hill 
from  it,  and  the  near  branches  and  saplings  were  be- 
smeared with  it  where  we  wiped  our  murderous  hands, 
yet  not  a  drop  was  wasted.     It  was  a  feast  to  which 
'not  only  honey-bees   came,  but    bumble-bees,   wasps, 
'yhornets,  flies,  ants.     The  bumble-bees,  which  at  this 
season  are  hungry  vagrants    with  no  fixed  place  of 
abode,  would  gorge  themselves,   then  creep   beneath 
the  bits  of  empty  comb   or  fragments  of   bark  and 
pass  the  night,  and  renew  the  feast  next  day.     The 
ibumble-bee  is  an  insect  of  which  the  bee-hunter  sees 
much.     There  are  all  sorts  and  sizes  of  them.     They 
are  dull  and  clumsy  compared  with   the  honey-bee^ 


AN  IDYL   OF   THE  HONEY-BEE.  61 

Attracted  in  the  fields  by  the  bee  hunter's  box,  they 
will  come  up  the  wind  on  the  scent  and  blunder  into 
it  in  the  most  stupid,  lubberly  fashion. 

The  honey-bee  that  licked  up  our  leavings  on  tin 
old  stub  belonged  to  a  swarm,  as  it  proved,  about  half 
a  mile  farther  down  the  ridge,  and  a  few  days  after- 
ward fate  overtook  them,  and  their  stores  in  turn  be 
came  the  prey  of  another  swarm  in  the  vicinity,  whici: 
also  tempted  Providence  and  were  overwhelmed.  The 
lirst  mentioned  swarm  I  had  lined  from  several  points, 
and  was  following  up  the  clew  over  rocks  and  through 
gulleys,  when  I  came  to  where  a  large  hemlock  had 
been  felled  a  few  years  before  and  a  swarm  taken 
from  a  cavity  near  the  top  of  it ;  fragments  of  the  old 
comb  were  yet  to  be  seen.  A  few  yards  away  stood 
another  short,  squatty  hemlock,  and  I  said  my  bees 
ought  to  be  there.  As  I  paused  near  it  I  noticed 
where  the  tree  had  been  wounded  with  an  ax  a  couple 
of  feet  from  the  ground  many  years  before.  The 
wound  had  partially  grown  over,  but  there  was  an 
opening  there  that  I  did  not  see  at  the  first  glance.  I 
was  about  to  pass  on  when  a  bee  passed  me  making 
that  peculiar  shrill,  discordant  hum  that  a  bee  makes 
when  besmeared  with  honey.  I  saw  it  alight  in  the 
partially  closed  wound  and  crawl  home  ;  then  came 
others  and  others,  little  bands  and  squads  of  them 
heavily  freighted  with  honey  from  the  box.  The  tree 
was  about  twenty  inches  through  and  hollow  at  tin. 
butt,  or  from  the  ax  mark  down.  This  space  t lie- 
bees  had  completely  filled  with  honey.  With  an  ax 
we  cut  away  the  outer  ring  of  live  wood  and  exposed 
ihe  treasure.  Despite  the  utmost  care,  we  wounded 
the  comb  so  that  little  rills  of  the  golden  liquid  issued 
from  the  root  of  the  tree  and  trickled  down  the  bill 


S2  BEES, 

The  other  bee-tree  in  the  vicinity,  to  which  I  have 
referred,  we  found  one  warm  November  day  in  less 
than  half  an  hour  after  entering  the  woods.  It  also 
was  a  hemlock,  that  stood  in  a  niche  in  a  wall  of 
hoary,  moss-covered  rocks  thirty  feet  high.  The  tree 
.hardly  reached  to  the  top  of  the  precipice.  The  bees 
entered  a  small  hole  at  the  root,  which  was  seven  o£ 
eight  feet  from  the  ground.  The  position  was  a  strik- 
ing one,  Never  did  apiary  have  a  finer  outlook  or 
Euore  rugged  surroundings.  A  black,  wood-embraced 
lake  lay  at  our  feet ;  the  long  panorama  of  the  Cats* 
kills  filled  the  far  distance,  and  the  more  broken  out- 
lines of  the  Shawangunk  range  filled  the  rear.  On 
every  hand  were  precipices  and  a  wild  confusion  of 
rocks  and  trees. 

The  cavity  occupied  by  the  bees  was  about  tln-ed 
feet  and  a  half  lon^  and  ei^ht  or  ten  inches  in  diam- 
eter.  With  an  ax  we  cut  away  one  side  of  the  Uee 
and  laid  bare  its  curiously  wrought  heart  of  honey.  It 
was  a  most  pleasing  sight.  What  winding  and  devi- 
ous ways  the  bees  had  through  their  palace  !  What 
preat  masses  and  blocks  of  snow-white  comb  there 
were  !  Where  it  was  sealed  up,  presenting  that 
(  slightly  dented,  uneven  surface,  it  looked  like  some 
precious  ore.  When  we  carried  a  large  pail  full  of  ii 
lout  of  the  woods,  it  seemed  still  more  like  ore. 

Your  native  bee-hunter  predicates  the  distance  of 
the  tree  by  the  time  the  bee  occupies  in  making  its 
first  trip.  But  this  is  no  certain  guide.  You  are 
always  safe  in  calculating  that  the  tree  is  inside  of  a 
mile,  and  you  need  not  as  a  rule  look  for  your  bee's 
return  under  ten  minutes.  One  day  I  picked  up  a 
bee  in  an  opening  in  the  woods  and  gave  it  honey, 
and  it  made  three  trips  to  my  box  with  an  interval 


AN  IDYL   OF  THE  HONEY-BEE.  (53 

of  about  twelve  minutes  between  tLem ;  it  returned 
alone  each  time  ;  the  tree,  which  I  afterward  found, 
was  about  half  a  mile  distant. 

In  lining  bees  through  the  woods,  the  tactics  of  fche 
hunter  are  to  pause  every  twenty  or  thirty  rods,  lop 
away  the  branches  or  cut  down  the  trees,  and  set  the 
bees  to  work  again.  If  they  still  go  forward,  he  goes 
forward  also  and  repeats  his  observations  till  the 
tree  is  found  or  till  the  bees  turn  and  come  back 
upon  the  trail.  Then  he  knows  he  has  passed  the 
tree,  and  he  retraces  his  steps  to  a  convenient  dis- 
tance and  tries  again,  and  thus  quickly  reduces  the 
space  to  be  looked  over  till  the  swarm  is  traced 
home.  On  one  occasion,  in  a  wild  rocky  wood,  where 
the  surface  alternated  between  deep  gulfs  and  chasms* 
filled  with  thick,  heavy  growths  of  timber  and  sharp, 
precipitous,  rocky  ridges  like  a  tempest  tossed  sea,  I 
carried  my  bees  directly  under  their  tree,  and  set 
them  to  work  from  a  high,  exposed  ledge  of  rocks  not 
thirty  feet  distant.  One  would  have  expected  them 
under  such  circumstances  to  have  gone  straight  home, 
as  there  were  but  few  branches  intervening,  but  they 
did  not ;  they  labored  up  through  the  trees  and  at- 
tained an  altitude  above  the  woods  as  if  they  had 
miles  to  travel,  and  thus  baffled  me  for  hours.  Bee^ 
Iwill  always  do  this.  They  are  acquainted  with  the 
woods  only  from  the  top  side,  and  from  the  air  above  » 
they  recognize  home  only  by  land-marks  here,  and  ir 
every  instance  they  rise  aloft  to  take  their  bearii 
Think  how  familiar  to  them  the  topography  of  the 
yorest  summits  must  be  —  an  umbrageous  sea  oi 
plain  where  every  mark  and  point  is  known. 

Another  curious  fact  is  that  generally  you  will  get 
track  of  a  bee-tree  sooner  when  you  are  half  a  mile 


64  *  BEES 

from  it  than  when  you  are  only  a  few  yards.  Bees, 
like  us  human  insects,  have  little  faith  in  the  near  at 
hand  ;  tkey  expect  to  make  their  fortune  in  a  distant 
field,  they  are  lured  by  the  remote  and  the  difficult, 
and  hence  overlook  the  flower  and  the  sweet  at  their 
very  door.  On  several  occasions  I  have  unwittingly- 
set  my  box  within  a  few  paces  of  a  bee-tree  and 
waited  long  for  bees  without  getting  them,  when,  ou 
fferaoving  to  a  distant  field  or  opening  in  the  woods 
I  have  got  a  clew  at  once. 

1  have  a  theory  that  when  bees  leave  the  hive, 
Unless  there  is  some  special  attraction  in  some  other 
direction,  they  generally  go  against  the  wind.  They 
would  thus  have  the  wind  with  them  when  they 
returned  home  heavily  l?den,  and  with  these  little 
navigators  the  difference  is  an  important  one.  With 
a  full  cargo,  a  stiff  head-wind  is  a  great  hindrance, 
but  fresh  and  empty-handed  they  can  face  it  with 
more  ease.  Virgil  says  bees  bear  gravel  stones  a& 
ballast,  but  their  only  ballast  is  their  honey  bag. 
Hence,  when  I  go  bee-hunting,  I  prefer  to  get  to 
windward  of  the  woods  in  which  the  swarm  is  sup- 
posed to  have  taken  refuge. 

Bees,  like  the  milkman,  like  to  be  near  a  springo 
They  do  water  their  honey,  especially  in  a  dry  time. 
The  liquid  is  then  of  course  thicker  and  sweeter,  and 
will  bear  diluting.  Hence,  old  bee-hunters  look  for 
bee  trees  along  creeks  and  near  spring  runs  in  the 
woods,  I  once  found  a  tree  a  long  distance  from 
any  water,  and  the  honey  had  a  peculiar  bitter  flavor 
imparted  to  it,  I  was  convinced,  by  rain  water  sucked 
from  the  decayed  and  spongy  hemlock  tree,  in  which 
the  swarm  was  found.  In  cutting  into  the  tree,  the 
north  side  of  it  was  found  to  be  saturated  with  wate" 


AN  IDYL    OF  THE  HONEY-BEE.  65 

like  a  spring,  which  ran  out  in  big  drops,  and  had  a 
bitter  flavor.  The  bees  had  thus  found  a  spring  or 
a  cistern  in  their  own  house. 

Bees  are  exposed  to  many  hardships  and  many 
dangers.  Winds  and  storms  prove  as  disastrous  to 
them  as  to  other  navigators.  Black  spiders  lie  in 
wait  for  them  as  do  brigands  for  travelers.  One  day 
as  I  was  looking  for  a  bee  amid  some  golden-rod,  I 
spied  one  partly  concealed  under  a  leaf.  Its  baskets 
were  full  of  pollen,  and  it  did  not  move.  On  lifting 
up  the  leaf  I  discovered  that  a  hairy  spider  was  am- 
bushed there  and  had  the  bee  by  the  throat.  The 
vampire  was  evidently  afraid  of  the  bee's  sting,  and 
was  holding  it  by  the  throat  till  quite  sure  of  its  death, 
Virgil  speaks  of  the  painted  lizard,  perhaps  a  species 
of  salamander,  as  an  enemy  of  the  honey-bee.  We 
have  no  lizard  that  destroys  the  bee  ;  but  our  tree- toad, 
ambushed  among  the  apple  and  cherry  blossoms, 
snaps  them  up  wholesale.  Quick  as  lightning  that 
subtle  but  clammy  tongue  darts  forth,  and  the  unsus- 
pecting bee  is  gone.  Yirgil  also  accuses  the  titmouse 
and  the  woodpecker  of  preying  upon  the  bees,  and 
our  kingbird  has  been  charged  with  the  like  crime, 
but  the  latter  devours  only  the  drones.  The  workers 
are  either  too  small  and  quick  for  it,  or  else  it  dreads 
their  sting. 

Virgil,  by  the  way,  had  little  more  than  a  child's 
knowledge  of  the  honey-bee.  There  is  little  fact 
and  much  fable  in  his  fourth  Georgic.  If  he  had 
ever  kept  bees  himself,  or  even  visited  an  apiary,  it  ia 
hard  to  see  how  he  could  have  believed  that  the  bee 
in  its  flight  abroad  carried  a  gravel  stone  for  ballast: 


a 


And  as  when  empty  barks  on  billosvs  float, 
With  sandy  ballast  sailors  trim  the  boat ; 


66  BEES. 

So  bees  bear  gravel  stones,  -whose  poising-  weight 
Steers  through  the  whistling  winds  their  steady  flight;  " 

or  that  when  two  colonies  made  war  upon  each  other 
they  issued  forth  from  their  hives  led  by  their  kings 
and  fought  in  the  air,  strewing  the  ground  with  the 
dead  and  dying  :  — 

"  Hard  hailstones  lie  not  thicker  on  the  plain, 
Nor  shaken  oaks  such  show'rs  of  acorns  rain." 

It  is  quite  certain  he  had  never  been  bee-hunting. 
If  he  had,  we  should  have  had  a  fifth  Georgic.  Yet 
he  seems  to  have  known  that  bees  sometimes  escaped 
to  the  woods  :  — 

"  Nor  bees  are  lodged  in  hives  alone,  but  found 
In  chambers  of  their  own  beneath  the  ground : 
Their  vaulted  roofs  are  hung  in  pumices, 
And  in  the  rotten  trunks  of  hollow  trees." 

Wild  honey  is  as  near  like  tame  as  wild  bees  are 
like  their  brothers  in  the  hive.  The  only  difference  is 
that  wild  honey  is  flavored  with  your  adventure,  which 
makes  it  a  little  more  delectable  than  the  domestic 
article. 


THE  PASTORAL   BEES. 

The  honey-bee  goes  forth  from  the  hive  in  spring 
like  the  dove  from  Noah's  ark,  and  it  is  not  till  aftel 
many  days  that  she  brings  back  the  olive  leaf,  which 
in  this  case  is  a  pellet  of  golden  pollen  upon  each  hip, 
usually  obtained  from  the  alder  or  the  swamp  willow. 
In  a  country  where  maple  sugar  is  made,  the  bees  get 
their  first  taste  of  sweet  from  the  sap  as  it  flows  from 
the  spiles,  or  as  it  dries  and  is  condensed  upon  the 


THE   PASTORAL   BEES.  G7 

sides  of  the  buckets.  They  will  sometimes,  in  fcheii 
eagerness,  come  about  the  boiling  place  and  be  o\ 
whelmed  by  the  steam  and  the  smoke.  But  fo 
appear  to  be  more  eager  for  bread  in  the  spring  i 
for  honey ;  their  supply  of  this  article,  perhaps,  docs 
not  keep  as  well  as  their  stores  of  the  latter  ;  hence 
fresh  bread,  in  the  shape  of  new  pollen,  is  diligently 
sought  for.  My  bees  get  their  first  supplies  from  the 
catkins  of  the  willows.  How  quickly  they  find  them 
out.  If  but  one  catkin  opens  anywhere  within  ran  . 
s  bee  is  on  hand  that  very  hour  to  rifle  it,  and  it  is  a 
most  pleasing  experience  to  stand  near  the  hive  some 
mild  April  day  and  see  them  come  pouring  in  with 
their  little  baskets  packed  with  this  first  fruitage  of 
the  spring.  They  will  have  new  bread  now ;  they 
have  been  to  mill  in  good  earnest ;  see  their  dusty 
coats,  and  the  golden  grist  they  bring  home  with 
them. 

When  a  bee  brings  pollen  into  the  hive,  he  ad- 
vances to  the  cell  in  which  it  is  to  be  deposited  and 
kicks  it  off  as  one  might  his  overalls  or  rubber  boots, 
making  one  foot  help  the  other ;  then  he  walks  off 
without  ever  looking  behind  him  ;  another  bee,  one 
of  the  indoor  hands,  comes  along  and  rams  it  down 
•with  his  head  and  packs  it  into  the  cell  as  the  dairy- 
maid packs  butter  into  a  firkin. 

'  The  first  spring  wild-flowers,  whose  shy  faces  among 
the  dry  leaves  and  rocks  are  so  welcome,  yield  no 
honey.  The  anemone,  the  hepatica,  the  bloodroot, 
the  arbutus,  the  numerous  violets,  the  spring  beauty, 
the  corydalis,  etc.,  woo  all  lovers  of  nature,  hut  do 
not  woo  the  honey-loving  bee.  It  requires  more  sun 
and  warmth  to  develop  the  saccharine  element,  and 
the  beauty  of  these  pale  striplings  of  the  woods  and 


08  BEES. 

groves  is  their  sole  and  sufficient  excuse  for  being 
The  arbutus,  lying  low  and  keeping  green  all  winter, 
attains  to  perfume,  but  not  to  honey. 

The  first  honey  is  perhaps  obtained  from  the  flow- 
ers of  the  red  maple  and  the  golden  willow.  The 
latter  sends  forth  a  wild,  delicious  perfume.  The 
sugar  maple  blooms  a  little  later,  and  from  its  silked 
tassels  a  rich  nectar  is  gathered.  My  bees  will  not 
label  these  different  varieties  for  me  as  I  really  wish 
they  would.  Honey  from  the  maple,  a  tree  so  clean 
and  wholesome,  and  full  of  such  virtues  every  way, 
would  be  something  to  put  one's  tongue  to.  Or  that 
from  the  blossoms  of  the  apple,  the  peach,  the  cherry, 
the  quince,  the  currant,  —  one  would  like  a  card  of 
each  of  these  varieties  to  note  their  peculiar  qualities. 
The  apple-blossom  is  very  important  to  the  bees.  A 
single  swarm  has  been  known  to  gain  twenty  pounds 
in  weight  during  its  continuance.  Bees  love  the 
ripened  fruit,  too,  and  in  August  and  September  will 
suck  themselves  tipsy  upon  varieties  such  as  the  sops- 
of-wine. 

The  interval  between  the  blooming  of  the  fruit-trees 
and  that  of  the  clover  and  the  raspberry  is  bridged 
over  in  many  localities  by  the  honey  locust,  What 
»a  delightful  summer  murmur  these  trees  send  forth 
at  this  season.  I  know  nothing  about  the  quality 
of  the  honey,  but  it  ought  to  keep  well.  But  when 
the  red  raspberry  blooms,  the  fountains  of  plenty 
are  unsealed  indeed  ;  what  a  commotion  about  the 
hives  then,  especially  in  localities  where  it  is  ex- 
tensively cultivated,  as  in  places  along  the  Hudson. 
The  delicate  white  clover,  which  begins  to  bloom 
about  the  same  time,  is  neglected ;  even  honey  it- 
self is  passed  by  for  this  modest,  colorless,  all  but 


THE  PASTORAL  BEES.  69 

odorless  flower.  A  field  of  these  berries  in  June 
sends  forth  a  continuous  murmur  like  that  of  an 
enormous  hive.  The  honey  is  not  so  white  as  that 
obtained  from  clover,  but  it  is  easier  gathered  ;  it  i' 
in  shallow  cups  while  that  of  the  clover  is  in  deeL 
tubes.  The  bees  are  up  and  at  it  before  sunrise, 
and  it  takes  a  brisk  shower  to  drive  them  in.  But 
fche  clover  blooms  later  and  blooms  everywhere,  and 
is  the  staple  source  of  supply  of  the  finest  quality  of 
honey.  The  red  clover  yields  up  its  stores  only  to 
the  longer  proboscis  of  the  bumble-bee,  else  the  bee 
pasturage  of  our  agricultural  districts  would  be  un- 
equaled.  I  do  not  know  from  what  the  famous  honev 
of  Chamouni  in  the  Alps  is  made,  but  it  can  hardly 
surpass  our  best  products.  The  snow-white  honey 
of  Anatolia  in  Asiatic  Turkey,  which  is  regularly 
sent  to  Constantinople  for  the  use  of  the  grand  seig- 
nior and  the  ladies  of  his  seraglio,  is  obtained  from 
the  cotton  plant,  which  makes  me  think  that  the 
white  clover  does  not  flourish  there.  The  white  clover 
is  indigenous  with  us  ;  its  seeds  seem  latent  in  the 
ground,  and  the  application  of  certain  stimulants  to 
the  soil,  such  as  wood  ashes,  causes  them  to  germinate 
and  spring  up. 

The  rose,  with  all  its  beauty  and  perfume,  yield.1- 
no  honey  to  the  bee,  unless  the  wild  species  be  sough. 
by  the  bumble-bee. 

Among  the  humbler  plants,  let  me  not  forget  th» 
dandelion  that  so  early  dots  the  sunny  slopes,  ana 
sipon  which  the  bee  languidly  grazes,  wallowing  to 
his  knees  in  the  golden  but  not  over-succulent  pas- 
turage. From  the  blooming  rye  and  wheat  the  bee 
gathers  pollen,  also  from  the  obscure  blossoms  of 
Indian  corn.    Among  weeds,  catnip  is  the  great  favor- 


fO  BEES. 

ite.  It  lasts  nearly  the  whole  season  and  yields 
richly.  It  could  no  doubt  be  profitably  cultivated 
in  some  localities,  and  catnip  honey  would  be  a 
novelty  in  the  market.  It  would  probably  partake 
of  the  aromatic  properties  of  the  plant  from  which  it 
was  derived. 

Among  your  stores  of  honey  gathered  before  mid- 
summer, you  may  chance  upon  a  card,  or  mayhap 
only  a  square  inch  or  two  of  comb,  in  which  the  liquid 
is  as  transparent  as  water,  of  a  delicious  quality,  with 
a  slight  flavor  of  mint.  This  is  the  product  of  the 
linden  or  basswood,  of  all  the  trees  in  our  forest  the 
one  most  beloved  by  the  bees.  Melissa,  the  goddess 
of  honey,  has  placed  her  seal  upon  this  tree.  The 
wild  swarms  in  the  woods  frequently  reap  a  choice 
harvest  from  it.  I  have  seen  a  mountain  side  thickly 
studded  with  it,  its  straight,  tall,  smooth,  light-gray 
shaft  carrying  its  deep-green  crown  far  aloft,  like  the 
tulip-tree  or  the  maple. 

In  some  of  the  Northwestern  States  there  are  large 
forests  of  it,  and  the  amount  of  honey  reported  stored 
by  strong  swarms  in  this  section  during  the  time  the 
tree  is  in  bloom  is  quite  incredible.  As  a  shade  and 
ornamental  tree  the  linden  is  fully  equal  to  the  maple, 
and  if  it  were  as  extensively  planted  and  cared  for,  our 
supplies  of  virgin  honey  would  be  greatly  increased. 
The  famous  honey  of  Lithuania  in  Russia  is  the  pro- 
duct of  the  linden. 

It  is  a  homely  old  stanza  current  among  bee  folk 
that  — 

"  A  swarm  of  bees  in  May 
Is  worth  a  load  of  hay  : 
A  swarm  of  bees  in  June 
Is  worth  a  silver  spoon  ; 
But  a  swarm  in  July 
Is  not  worth  a  fly." 


THE   PASTORAL   LEES.  71 

A-  swarm  in  May  is  indeed  a  treasure ;  it  is,  like  an 
April  baby,  sure  to  thrive,  and  will  very  likely  itself 
send  out  a  swarm  a  month  or  two  later  ;  but  a  swarm 
in  July  is  not  to  be  despised ;  it  will  store  no  clover 
or  linden  honey  for  the  "grand  seignior  and  the  ladies 
of  his  seraglio,"  but  plenty  of  the  rank  and  wholesome 
poor  man's  nectar,  the  sun-tanned  product  of  the  | 
beian  buckwheat.  Buckwheat  honey  is  the  black 
sheep  in  this  white  flock,  but  there  is  spirit  and 
character  in  it.  It  lays  hold  of  the  taste  in  no 
equivocal  manner,  especially  when  at  a  winter  break- 
fast it  meets  its  fellow,  the  russet  buckwheat  cake. 
Bread  with  honey  to  cover  it  from  the  same  stalk 
is  double  good  fortune.  It  is  not  black,  either,  but 
nut-brown,  and  belongs  to  the  same  class  of  goods 
as  Herrick's 

"Nut-brown  mirth  and  russet  wit." 

How  the  bees  love  it,  and  they  bring  the  delicious 
odor  of  the  blooming  plant  to  the  hive  with  them, 
so  that  in  the  moist  warm  twilight  the  apiary  is 
redolent  with  the  perfume  of  buckwheat. 

Yet  evidently  it  is  not  the  perfume  of  any  flower 
that  attracts  the  bees  ;  they  pay  no  attention  to  the 
sweet-scented  lilac,  or  to  heliotrope,  but  work  upon 
sumach,  silkweed,  and  the  hateful  snapdragon.  Iut 
September  they  are  hard  pressed,  and  do  well  if  they 
pick  up  enough  sweet  to  pay  the  running  expen 
of  their  establishment.  The  purple  asters  and  th' 
golden-rod  are  about  all  that  remain  to  them. 

Bees  will  go  three  or  four  miles  in  quest  of  honey, 
but  it  is  a  great  advantage  to  move  the  hive  n<  v 
the  good  pasturage,  as  has  been  the  custom  from  the 
earliest  times  in  the  Old  World.  Some  enterprising 
person,  taking  a  hint  perhaps  from  the  ancient  Egyp- 


72  BEES. 

tians,  who  had  floating  apiaries  on  the  Nile,  has  tried 
the  experiment  of  floating  several  hundred  colonies 
north  on  the  Mississippi,  starting  from  New  Orleans 
and  following  the  opening  season  up,  thus  realizing 
a  sort  of  perpetual  May  or  June,  the  chief  attraction 
being  the  blossoms  of  the  river  willow,  which  yield 
lioney  of  rare  excellence.  Some  of  the  bees  were 
no  doubt  left  behind,  but  the  amount  of  virgin 
honey  secured  must  have  been  very  great.  In  Sep- 
tember they  should  have  begun  the  return  trip9 
following  the  retreating  summer  South.  ' 

It  is  the  making  of  the  wax  that  costs  with  the 
bee.  As  with  the  poet,  the  form,  the  receptacle, 
gives  him  more  trouble  than  the  sweet  that  fills  it, 
though,  to  be  sure,  there  is  always  more  or  less 
empty  comb  in  both  cases.  The  honey  he  can  have 
for  the  gathering,  but  the  wax  he  must  make  him- 
self —  must  evolve  from  his  own  inner  consciousness. 
When  wax  is  to  be  made  the  wax-makers  fill  them- 
selves with  honey  and  retire  into  their  chamber  for 
private  meditation ;  it  is  like  some  solemn  religious 
rite  ;  they  take  hold  of  hands,  or  hook  themselves 
together  in  long  lines  that  hang  in  festoons  from 
the  top  of  the  hive,  and  wait  for  the  miracle  to 
transpire.  After  about  twenty-four  hours  their 
patience  is  rewarded,  the  honey  is  turned  into  wax, 
minute  scales  of  which  are  secreted  from  between 
the  rings  of  the  abdomen  of  each  bee ;  this  is  taken 
off  and  from  it  the  comb  is  built  up.  It  is  cal- 
culated that  about  twenty-five  pounds  of  honey  are 
used  in  elaborating  one  pound  of  comb,  to  say  noth- 
ing of  the  time  that  is  lost.  Hence  the  importance. 
in  an  economical  point  of  view,  of  a  recent  device 
which  the  honey  is  extracted   and  the   comb   re 


THE  PASTORAL  BEES.  73 

turned  intact  to  the  bees.  But  honey  without  tli 
comb  is  the  perfume  without  the  rose, —  it  is  Bwect 
merely,  and  soon  degenerates  into  candy.  Half  the 
delectabieness  is  in  breaking  down  these  frail  and 
exquisite  walls  yourself,  and  tasting  the  nectar  before 
it  has  lost  its  freshness  by  the  contact  with  the 
3Ur.  Then  the  comb  is  a  sort  of  shield  or  foil 
that  prevents  the  tongue  from  being  overwhelmed 
by  the  shock  of  the  sweet. 

The  drones  have  the  least  enviable  time  of  it. 
Their  foothold  in  the  hive  is  very  precarious.  They 
look  like  the  giants,  the  lords  of  the  swarm,  but 
they  are  really  the  tools.  Their  loud,  threatening 
hum  has  no  sting  to  back  it  up,  and  their  size  and 
noise  make  them  only  the  more  conspicuous  marks 
for  the  birds. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  season,  say  in  July  or 
August^  the  flat  goes  forth  that  the  drones  must  die ; 
there  is  no  further  use  for  them.  Then  the  poor 
creatures,  how  they  are  huddled  and  hustled  about, 
trying  to  hide  in  corners  and  by-ways.  There  is  no 
loud,  defiant  humming  now,  but  abject  fear  seizes 
them.  They  cower  like  hunted  criminals.  I  have 
seen  a  dozen  or  more  of  them  wedge  themselves  into 
a  small  space  between  the  glass  and  the  comb,  wh< 
the  bees  could  not  get  hold  of  them,  or  where  they 
seemed  to  be  overlooked  in  the  general  slaughter. 
They  will  also  crawl  outside  and  hide  under  the  ed 
of  the  hive.  But  sooner  or  later  they  are  all  killed 
or  kicked  out.  The  drone  makes  no  resistance,  ex- 
cept to  pull  back  and  try  to  get  away;  but  (putting 
yourself  in  his  place)  with  one  bee  a-h<>l<l  of  your  col- 
lar or  the  hair  of  your  head,  and  another  a-liold  of  each 
arm  or  leg,  and  still  another  feeling  for  your  waist- 
bands with  his  sting,  the  odds  are  greatly  against  you. 


74  BEES. 

It  is  a  singular  fact,  also,  that  the  queen  is  made, 
not  born.     If  the  entire  population  of  Spain  or  Great 
Britain  were  the  offspring  of  one  mother,  it  might  be 
found  necessary  to  hit  upon  some  device  by  which  a 
royal  baby  could  be  manufactured  out  of  an  ordinary 
one,  or  else  give  up  the  fashion  of  royalty.     All  the 
bees  in  the  hive  have  a  common  parentage,  and   the 
queen  and  the  worker  are  the  same  in  the  egg  and  in 
the  chick ;  the  patent  of  royalty  is  in  the  cell  and  in 
the  food  ;  the  cell  being  much  larger,  and  the  food  a, 
peculiar  stimulating  kind  of  jelly.     In  certain  contin- 
gencies, such  as  the  loss  of  the  queen  with  no   eggs 
in  the  royal  cells,  the  workers  take   the  larva   of  an 
ordinary  bee,  enlarge  the  cell  by  taking  in  the  two 
adjoining  ones,  and  nurse  it  and  stuff  it  and  coddle  it, 
till  at  the  end  of  sixteen  days  it  comes  out  a  queen. 
But  ordinarily,  in  the   natural  course  of    events,  the 
young  queen  is  kept  a  prisoner  in  her  cell  till  the 
old  queen  has  left  with  the  swarm.     Later  on,  the  un- 
matched queen  is  guarded  against  the  reigning  queen, 
who  only  wants  an  opportunity  to  murder  every  royal 
scion  in  the  hive.     At  this  time  both  the  queens,  the 
one  a  prisoner  and  the  other  at  large,  pipe  defiance 
at  each  other,  a  shrill,  fine,  trumpet-like  note  that  any 
ear  will  at  once  recognize.     This  challenge,  not  being 
allowed  to  be  accepted  by  either  party,  is  followed,  in  a 
day  or  two,  by  the  abdication  of  the  reigning  queen ;  she 
leads  out  the  swarm,  and  her  successor  is  liberated  by 
her  keepers,  who,  in  her  time,  abdicates  in  favor  of  the 
next  younger.     When  the  bees  have  decided  that  no 
more  swarms  can  issue,  the  reigning  queen  is  allowed 
to  use  her  stiletto  upon  her  unhatched  sisters.     Cases 
have   been   known   where   two   queens   issued    at   the 
same  time,  when  a  mortal  combat  ensued,  encouraged 


THE   PASTORAL   BEES.  ?0 

by  the  workers,  who  formed  a  ring  about  them,  but 
showed  no  preference,  and  recognized  the  victor  as 
the  lawful  sovereign.  For  these  and  many  other  curi- 
ous facts  we  are  indebted  to  the  blind  liuber. 

It  is  worthy  of  note  that  the  position  of  the  queen 
cells  is  always  vertical,  while  that  of  the  drones  and 
workers  is  horizontal;  majesty  stands  on  its  head, 
which  fact  may  be  a  part  of  the  secret. 

The  notion  has  always  very  generally  prevailed 
that  the  queen  of  the  bees  is  an  absolute  ruler,  and 
issues  her  royal  orders  to  willing  subjects.  Hence 
Napoleon  the  First  sprinkled  the  symbolic  bees  over 
the  imperial  mantle  that  bore  the  arms  of  his  dynasty ; 
and  in  the  country  of  the  Pharaohs  the  bee  was  used 
as  the  emblem  of  a  people  sweetly  submissive  to  the 
orders  of  its  king.  But  the  fact  is,  a  swarm  of  bees 
is  an  absolute  democracy,  and  kings  and  despots  can 
find  no  warrant  in  their  example.  The  power  and 
authority  are  entirely  vested  in  the  great  mass,  the 
workers.  They  furnish  all  the  brains  and  foresight  of 
the  colony,  and  administer  its  affairs.  Their  word 
is  law,  and  both  king  and  queen  must  obey.  They 
regulate  the  swarming,  and  give  the  signal  for  the 
swarm  to  issue  from  the  hive  ;  they  select  and  make 
ready  the  tree  in  the  woods  and  conduct  the  queen 
to  it. 

The  peculiar  office  and  sacredness  of  the  queen 
consists  in  the  fact  that  she  is  the  mother  of  the 
swarm,  and  the  bees  love  and  cherish  her  as  a  mother 
and  not  as  a  sovereign.  She  is  the  sole  female  bee 
IE  the  hive,  and  the  swarm  clings  to  her  because  she 
is  their  life.  Deprived  of  their  queen,  and  of  all 
brood  from  which  to  rear  one,  the  swarm  loses  all 
heart  and  soon  dies,  though  there  be  an  abundance 
rd  honey  in  the  hive. 


76  bEES. 

The  common  bees  will  never  use  their  sting  upon 
the  queen  ;  if  she  is  to  be  disposed  of  they  starve  her 
to  death  ;  and  the  queen  herself  will  sting  nothing  but 
royalty  —  nothing  but  a  rival  queen. 

The  queen,  I  say,  is  the  mother  bee ;  it  is  undoubt- 
edly complimenting  her  to  call  her  a  queen  and  in- 
fest her  with  regal  authority,  yet  she  is  a  superb 
sreature,  and  looks  every  inch  a  queen.  It  is  an 
event  to  distinguish  her  amid  the  mass  of  bees  when 
the  swarm  alights ;  it  awakens  a  thrill.  Before  you 
have  seen  a  queen  you  wonder  if  this  or  that  bee, 
which  seems  a  little  larger  than  its  fellows,  is  not  she, 
but  when  you  once  really  set  eyes  upon  her  you  do 
not  doubt  for  a  moment.  You  know  that  is  the  queen 
That  long,  elegant,  shining,  feminine-looking  creature 
«an  be  none  less  than  royalty.  How  beautifully  her 
body  tapers,  how  distinguished  she  looks,  how  delib- 
erate her  movements  !  The  bees  do  not  fall  down  be- 
fore her,  but  caress  her  and  touch  her  person.  The 
drones  or  males,  are  large  bees  too,  but  coarse,  bluntv 
broad-shouldered,  masculine-looking.  There  is  but 
one  fact  or  incident  in  the  life  of  the  queen  that  looks 
imperial  and  authoritative :  Huber  relates  that  when 
the  old  queen  is  restrained  in  her  movements  by  the 
workers,  and  prevented  from  destroying  the  young 
queens  in  their  cells,  she  assumes  a  peculiar  attitude 
and  utters  a  note  that  strikes  every  bee  motionless, 
and  makes  every  head  bow ;  while  this  sound  lasts 
not  a  bee  stirs,  but  all  look  abashed  and  humbled,  yet 
whether  the  emotion  is  one  of  fear,  or  reverence,  or 
of  sympathy  with  the  distress  of  the  queen  mother, 
is  hard  to  determine.  The  moment  it  ceases  and  she 
advances  again  toward  the  royal  cells,  the  bees  bite 
and  pull  and  insult  her  as  before, 


THE   PASTORAL   BEES.  77 

I  always  feel  that  I  have  missed  some  good  fortune 
if   I    am    away    from    home    when    my    bees    swarm. 
What  a  delightful  summer  sound  it  is ;  how  they  come 
pouring  out  of   the  hive,  twenty  or  thirty  thousand 
bees  each  striving  to  get  out  first ;  it  is  as  when  the 
•lam  gives  way  and  lets  the  waters  loose  ;  it  is  a  fl< 
i  bees  which  breaks  upward  into  the  air,  and  becomes 
a  maze  of  whirling  black  lines  to  the  eye  and  a  soft 
chorus  of  myriad    musical    sounds  to  the  ear.     This 
way  and  that  way  they  drift,  now  contracting,,   now 
expanding,  rising,  sinking,  growing  thick  about  some 
branch  or  bush,  then  dispersing  and  massing  at  some 
other  point,  till  finally  they  begin  to  alight  in  earnest, 
when  in  a  few  moments  the  whole  swarm  is  collected 
upon  the  branch,  forming  a  bunch  perhaps  as  large 
as  a  two-gallon  measure.     Here  they  will  hang  from 
one  to  three  or  four  hours,  or  until  a  suitable  tree 
in  the  woods  is  looked   up,   when,  if  they  have  not 
been  offered  a  hive  in  the  mean  time,  they  are  up 
and  off.     In  hiving   them,  if  any   accident  happens 
to  the  queen  the  enterprise  miscarries  at  once.     One 
day  I  shook  a  swarm  from  a  small  pear-tree  into  a 
tin  pan,  set  the  pan  down  on  a  shawl  spread  beneath 
the  tree,  and  put  the  hive  over  it.     The  bees  presently 
all  crawled  up  into  it,  and  all  seemed  to  go  well  for 
ten  or  fifteen  minutes,  when  I  observed  that  some* 
thing  was  wrong  ;  the  bees  began  to  buzz  excitei 
and  to  rush  about  in  a  bewildered  manner,  then  they 
took  to  the  wing  and  all  returned  to  the  parent  stock. 
Dn  lifting  up  the  pan,  I  found  beneath  it  the  queen 
with  three  or  four  other  bees.     She  had  been  one  of 
the  first  to  fall,  had  missed  the  pan  in  her  descent,  and 
I  had  set  it  upon  her.     I  conveyed  her  tenderly  back 
to  the  hive,  but  either  the  accident  terminated  fatally 


78  BEES. 

with  her  or  eke  the  young  queen  had  been  liberated 
in  the  interim,  and  one  of  them  had  fallen  in  combat, 
for  it  was  ten  days  before  the  swarm  issued  a  second 
time. 

No  one,  to  my  knowledge,  has  ever  seen  the  beet, 
house-hunting  in  the  woods.  Yet  there  can  be  nc 
doubt  that  they  look  up  new  quarters  either  before 
or  on  the  day  the  swarm  issues.  For  all  bees  ar@ 
wild  bees  and  incapable  of  domestication  ;  that  is,  the 
kistinct  to  go  back  to  nature  and  take  up  again  their 
wild  abodes  in  the  trees  is  never  eradicated.  Years 
upon  years  of  life  in  the  apiary  seems  to  have  n<* 
appreciable  effect  towards  their  final,  permanent  do- 
mestication. That  every  new  swarm  contemplates 
migrating  to  the  woods,  seems  confirmed  by  the  fact 
that  they  wTill  only  come  out  when  the  weather  is 
favorable  to  such  an  enterprise,  and  that  a  passing 
cloud,  or  a  sudden  wind,  after  the  bees  are  in  the  air, 
will  usually  drive  them  back  into  the  parent  hive. 
Or  an  attack  upon  them  with  sand  or  gravel,  or  loose 
earth  or  water,  will  quickly  cause  them  to  change 
their  plans.  I  would  not  even  say  but  that,  when  the 
bees  are  going  off,  the  apparently  absurd  practice, 
now  entirely  discredited  by  regular  bee-keepers  but 
still  resorted  to  by  unscientific  folk,  of  beating  upon 
tin  pans,  blowing  horns,  and  creating  an  uproar  gen- 
erally, might  not  be  without  good  results*  Certainly 
not  by  drowning  the  "  orders  "  of  the  queen,  but  by 
impressing  the  bees  as  with  some  unusual  commotion 
in  nature.  Bees  are  easily  alarmed  and  disconcerted, 
and  I  have  knowTi  runaway  swrarms  to  be  brought 
down  by  a  farmer  ploughing  in  the  field  who  show- 
ered them  with  handfuls  of  loose  soil. 

J  love  to   see  a  swarm  go  off  —  if  it  is  not  mine, 


THE  PASTORAL  BEES.  79 

and  if  mine  must  go  I  want  to  be  on  hand  to  see  the 
fun.     It  is  a  return  to  first  principles  again  by  a  very 
direct  route     The  past  season  I  witnessed  two  such 
escapes.     One  swarm  had  come  out  the  day  before. 
aads   without  alighting,  had  returned   to  the  parent 
hive  —  some  hitch  in  the  plan,  perhaps,   or  may  be 
the  queen  had  found  her  wings  too  weak'.     The  next 
day   they    came    out   again,    and    were    hived.      But 
something   offended   them,    or   else  the    tree    in    the 
woods  —  perhaps    some   royal    old    maple   or   birch, 
holding  its  head  high   above  all   others,  with   snug, 
spacious,  irregular  chambers  and  galleries  —  had  too 
many  attractions  ;  for  they  were  presently  discovered 
filling  the  air  over  the  garden,  and  whirling  excitedly 
around.     Gradually   they    began   to   drift    over   the 
street ;  a  moment  more,  and  they  had  become  sepa- 
rated from  the  other  bees,  and,  drawing  together  in  a 
more  compact  mass  or  cloud,  away  they  went,  a  hum- 
ming, flying  vortex  of  bees,  the  queen  in  the  centre, 
and  the  swarm  revolving  around  her  as  a  pivot, — 
over  meadows,   across    creeks   and  swamps,   straight 
for  the  heart  of  the  mountain,  about  a  mile  distant, 
■ — slow    at   first,  so  that  the  youth   who  gave  chase 
kept  up  with    them,  but  increasing  their  speed   tiD 
only  a  fox  hound  could  have  kept  them  in  sight.     I 
saw  their  pursuer  laboring  up  the  side  of  the  moun- 
tain ;  saw  his  white  shirt-sleeves  gleam  as  he  enterec 
the  woods;  but  he  returned  a  few  hours  afterward 
without  any  clew  as  to  the  particular   tree    in  which 
they  had  taken  refuge  out  of  the  ten  thousand  that 
covered  the  side  of  the  mountain. 

The  other  swarm  came  out  about  one  o'clock  of  a 
hot  July  day,  and  at  once  showed  symptom-  that 
alarmed    the   keeper,   who,    however,   threw    neither 


80  BEES. 

dirt  nor  water.     The  house  was  situated  on  a  steep 
side-hill.     Behind  it  the  ground  rose,  for  a  hundred 
rods  or  so,  at  an  angle   of  nearly  forty-five  degrees, 
and  the  prospect  of  having  to  chase  them  up  this  hill, 
if  chase  them  we   should,   promised  a  good  trial  o{ 
wind  at  least ;  for  it  soon  became  evident  that  theii 
3ourse  lay  in  this  direction.     Determined  to  have  a 
hand,  or  rather  a  foot,  in  the   chase,  I  threw  off   my 
coat  and  hurried  on,  before  the  swarm  was  yet  fairly 
organized    and   under  way.     The  route   soon  led  ma 
into  a  field  of    standing  rye,  every   spear  of    which 
held  its  head   above  my    own.     Plunging   recklessly 
forward,  my  course  marked  to  those  watching  from 
below  by  the  agitated  and  wriggling  grain,  I  emerged 
from  the  miniature  forest  just  in  time  to  see  the  run 
aways  disappearing  over  the  top  of  the  hill,    some 
fifty  rods  in  advance  of  me.     Lining  them  as  well  as 
I  could,  I  soon  reached  the  hill-top,  my  breath   ut- 
terly gone  and  the  perspiration  streaming  from  every 
pore  of    my  skin.     On    the  other    side  the   country 
opened  deep  and  wide.     A  large  valle}^  swept  around 
to  the  north,  heavily  wooded  at  its  head   and   on  its 
sides.     It  became  evident  at  once  that  the  bees  had 
made  good  their  escape,  and  that  whether  they  had 
stopped  on  one   side  of  the  valley  or  the  other,  or 
had  indeed  cleared  the  opposite  mountain  and  gone 
into  some  unknown  forest  beyond,  was  entirely  protM 
lematical.     I  turned  back,  therefore,  thinking  of  the 
honey-laden  tree  that   some  of   these   forests  would 
hold  before  the  falling  of  the  leaf. 

I  heard  of  a  youth  in  the  neighborhood,  more 
lucky  than  myself  on  a  like  occasion.  It  seems  that 
he  had  got  well  in  advance  of  the  swarm,  whose 
route  lay  over  a  hill,  as  in  my  case,  and  as  he  neared 


THE   PASTORAL   BEES.  81 

the  summit,  hat  in  hand,  the  bees  had  just  oomo  up 
and  were  all  about  him.  Presently  he  noticed  th 
hovering  about  his  straw  hat,  and  alighting  on  his 
arm  ;  and  in  almost  as  brief  a  time  as  it  takes  to  re. 
late  it,  the  whole  swarm  had  followed  the  queen  into 
his  hat.  Being  near  a  stone  wall,  he  coolly  deposited 
his  prize  upon  it,  quickly  disengaged  himself  from 
the  accommodating  bees,  and  returned  for  a  hive. 
The  explanation  of  this  singular  circumstance  nc 
doubt  is,  that  the  queen,  unused  to  such  long  and 
heavy  flights,  was  obliged  to  alight  from  very  ex- 
haustion. It  is  not  very  unusual  for  swarms  to  be 
thus  found  in  remote  fields,  collected  upon  a  bush  or 
branch  of  a  tree. 

When  a  swarm  migrates  to  the  woods  in  this  man- 
ner, the  individual  bees,  as  I  have  intimated,  do  not 
move  in  right  lines  or  straight  forward,  like  a  flock 
of  birds,  but  round  and  round,  like  chaff  in  a  whirl- 
wind. Unitedly  they  form  a  humming,  revolving, 
nebulous  mass,  ten  or  fifteen  feet  across,  which  keeps 
just  high  enough  to  clear  all  obstacles,  except  in 
crossing  deep  valleys,  when,  of  course,  it  may  be 
Very  high.  The  swarm  seems  to  be  guided  by  a  line 
<o£  couriers,  which  may  be  seen  (at  least  at  the  out- 
set) constantly  going  and  coming.  As  they  take  a 
direct  course,  there  is  always  some  chance  of  follow- 
ing them  to  the  tree,  unless  they  go  a  long  distance.; 
and  some  obstruction,  like  a  wood,  or  a  swamp,  or  a 
high  hill,  intervenes — enough  chance,  at  any  rate, 
to  stimulate  the  lookers-on  to  give  vigorous  chase 
as  Ions:  as  their  wind  holds  out.  If  the  bees  are 
successfully  followed  to  their  retreat,  two  plans  are 
feasible:  either  to  fell  the  tree  at  once,  and  -  k  to 
hive  them,  perhaps  bring  them  home  in  the  section  of 


82  BEES. 

the  tree  that  contains  the  cavity  ;  or  to  leave  the  tree 
till  fall,  then  invite  your  neighbors,  and  go  and  cut 
it,  and  see  the  ground  flow  with  honey.  The  former 
course  is  more  business-like  ;  but  the  latter  is  the 
one  usually  recommended  by  one's  friends  and  neigh- 
bors. 

Perhaps  nearly  one  third  of  all  the  runaway  swarms 
Heave  when  no  one  is  about,  and  hence  are  unseen  and 
raiheard,  save,  perchance,  by  some  distant  laborers  in 
the  field,  or  by  some  youth  ploughing  on  the  side  of 
the  mountain,  who  hears  an  unusual  humming  noise, 
and  sees  the  swarm  dimly  whirling  by  overhead,  and, 
>aiay  be,  gives  chase  ;  or  he  may  simply  catch  the 
sound,  when  he  pauses,  looks  quickly  around,  but  sees 
nothing.  When  he  comes  in  at  night  he  tells  how 
he  heard  or  saw  a  swarm  of  bees  go  over  ;  and,  per- 
haps from  beneath  one  of  the  hives  in  the  garden  a 
black  mass  of  bees  has  disappeared  during  the  day. 

They  are  not  partial  as  to  the  kind  of  tree,  —  pine, 
hemlock,  elm,  birch,  maple,  hickory,  —  any  tree  with 
a  good  cavity  high  up  or  low  down.  A  swarm  of 
mine  ran  away  from  the  new  patent  hive  I  gave  them, 
and  took  up  their  quarters  in  the  hollow  trunk  of  an 
old  apple-tree  across  an  adjoining  field.  The  entrance 
was  a  mouse-hole  near  the  ground. 

Another  swarm  in  the  neighborhood  deserted  their 
keeper  and  went  into  the  cornice  of  an  out-house  that 
stood  amid  evergreens  in  the  rear  of  a  large  mansion. 
But  there  is  no  accounting  for  the  taste  of  bees,  as 
Samson  found  when  he  discovered  the  swarm  in  the 
carcass,  or  more  probably  the  skeleton,  of  the  lion  he 
had  slain. 

In  any  given  locality,  especially  in  the  more  wooded 
and  mountainous  districts,  the  number  of  swarms  that 


THE  PASTORAL   DEES.  83 

thus  assert  their  independence  forms  quite  a  large 
per  cent.  In  the  Northern  States  these  swarms  very 
often  perish  before  spring ;  but  in  such  a  country  as 
Florida  they  seem  to  multiply,  till  bee-trees  are  vert 
common.  In  the  West,  also,  wild  honey  is  <>: 
gathered  in  large  quantities.  I  noticed  not  long 
since,  that  some  wood  -  choppers  on  the  west  Blope 
of  the  Coast  Range  felled  a  tree  that  had  several  pail- 
fuls  in  it. 

One  night  on  the  Potomac  a  party  of  us  unwit- 
tingly made  our  camp  near  the  foot  of  a  bee-tree, 
which  next  day  the  winds  of  heaven  blew  down,  for 
our  special  delectation,  at  least  so  we  read  the  sign. 
Another  time  while  sitting  by  a  waterfall  in  the  leaf. 
less  April  woods  I  discovered  a  swarm  in  the  top  of 
a  large  hickory.  I  had  the  season  before  remarked 
the  tree  as  a  likely  place  for  bees,  but  the  screen  of 
leaves  concealed  them  from  me.  This  time  my  former 
presentiment  occurred  to  me,  and,  looking  sharply, 
sure  enough  there  were  the  bees,  going  out  and  in  a 
large,  irregular  opening.  In  June  a  violent  tempest 
of  wind  and  rain  demolished  the  tree,  and  the  honey 
was  all  lost  in  the  creek  into  which  it  fell.  I  hap- 
pened along  that  way  two  or  three  days  after  the 
tornado,  when  I  saw  a  remnant  of  the  swarm,  those, 
doubtless,  that  escaped  the  flood  and  those  that  were 
away  when  the  disaster  came,  hanging  in  a  small 
black  mass  to  a  branch  high  up  near  where  th  ir 
home  used  to  be.  They  looked  forlorn  enough.  If 
the  queen  was  saved  the  remnant  probably  sought 
another  tree  ;  otherwise  the  bees  have  soon  died. 

I  have  seen  bees  desert  their  hive  in  the  Bpring 
when  it  was  infested  with  worms,  or  when  the  honey 
was  exhausted  ;    at    such  times  the   swarm   seems  to 


84  BEES. 

wander  aimlessly,  alighting  here  and  there,  and  per- 
haps in  the  end  uniting  with  some  other  colony.  In 
case  of  such  union,  it  would  be  curious  to  know  x 
negotiations  were  first  opened  between  the  parties,  and 
if  the  houseless  bees  are  admitted  at  once  to  all  the 
rio-hts  and  franchises  of  their  benefactors.  It  would 
be  very  like  the  bees  to  have  some  preliminary  plac 
and  understanding  about  the  matter  on  both  sides. 

Bees  will  accommodate  themselves  to  almost  any 
quarters,  yet  no  hive  seems  to  please  them  so  well 
as  a  section  of  a  hollow  tree  —  4*  gurus ,:  as  they 
are  called  in  the  South  and  West  where  the  sweet 
gum  grows.  In  some  European  countries  the  hive 
is  always  made  from  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  a  suitable 
cavity  being  formed  by  boring.  The  old-fashioned 
straw  hive  is  picturesque,  and  a  great  favorite  with 
the  bees  also. 

The  life  of  a  swarm  of  bees  is  like  an  active  and 
hazardous  campaign  of  an  army  ;  the  ranks  are  be- 
ing continually  depleted,  and  continually  recruited. 
What  adventures  they  have  by  flood  and  field,  and 
what  hair-breadth  escapes  !  A  strong  swarm  during 
the  honey  season  loses,  on  an  average,  about  four 
or  five  thousand  per  month,  or  one  hundred  and 
fifty  per  day.  They  are  overwhelmed  by  wind  and 
rain,  caught  by  spiders,  benumbed  by  cold,  crushe( 
by  cattle,  drowned  in  rivers  and  ponds,  and  yl 
many  nameless  ways  cut  off  or  disabled.  In  the 
spring  the  principal  mortality  is  from  the  cold.  As 
the  sun  declines  they  get  chilled  before  they  can 
reach  home.  Many  fall  down  outside  the  hive, 
unable  to  get  in  with  their  burden.  One  may  see 
them  come  utterly  spent  and  drop  hopelessly  into 
the  grass  in  front  of  their  very  doors.     Before  they 


THE  PASTORAL   BEES.  86 

can  rest  the  cold  has  stiffened  them.  I  go  out  in 
April  and  May  and  pick  them  up  by  the  handfuls, 
their  baskets  loaded  with  pollen,  and  warm  them  in 
the  sun  or  in  the  house,  or  by  the  simple  warmth 
of  my  hand,  until  they  can  crawl  into  the  hi 
Heat  is  their  life,  and  an  apparently  lifel  bee 
may  be  revived  by  warming  him.  I  have  also 
picked  them  up  while  rowing  on  the  river  and 
seen  them  safely  to  shore.  It  is  amusing  to  see 
them  come  huriying  home  when  there  is  a  thunder- 
storm approaching.  They  come  piling  in  till  the 
rain  is  upon  them.  Those  that  are  overtaken  by 
the  storm  doubtless  weather  it  as  best  they  can  in 
the  sheltering  trees  or  grass.  It  is  not  probable 
that  a  bee  ever  gets  lost  by  wandering  into  strange 
and  unknown  parts.  With  their  myriad  eyes  they 
see  everything;  and  then,  their  sense  of  locality  is 
very  acute,  is,  indeed,  one  of  their  ruling  traits. 
When  a  bee  marks  the  place  of  his  hive,  or  of  a 
bit  of  good  pasturage  in  the  fields  or  swamps,  or  of 
the  bee-hunter's  box  of  honey  on  the  hills  or  in  the 
woods,  he  returns  to  it  as  unerringly  as  fata 

Honey  was  a  much  more  important  article  of 
food  with  the  ancients  than  it  is  with  us.  As  they 
ippear  to.  have  been  unacquainted  with  sugar,  honey, 
no  doubt,  stood  them  instead.  It  is  too  rank  and 
pungent  for  the  modern  taste;  it  soon  cloys  upon 
the  palate.  It  demands  the  appetite  of  youth,  and 
the  strong,  robust  digestion  of  people  who  live 
much  in  the  open  air.  It  is  a  more  wholesome 
food  than  sugar,  and  modern  confectionery  is  poison 
beside  it.  Beside  grape  sugar,  honey  contains  manna, 
mucilage,  pollen,  acid,  and  other  vegetable  odorifer- 
ous substances  and  juices.     It  is  a  sugar  with  a  kind 


86  BEES. 

of  wild  natural  bread  added.  The  manna  of  itself  is 
both  food  and  medicine,  and  the  pungent  vegetable 
extracts  have  rare  virtues.  Honey  promotes  the  ex- 
cretions and  dissolves  the  glutinous  and  starchy  im- 
pedimenta of  the  system. 

Hence  it  is  not  without  reason  that  with  the  ancients 
a  land  flowing  with  milk  and  honey  should  mean  & 
land  abounding  in  all  good  things  ;  and  the  queen 
in  the  nursery  rhyme,  who  lingered  in  the  kitchen  to 
eat  "  bread  and  honey '  while  the  "  king  was  in  the 
parlor  counting  out  his  money,"  was  doing  a  very  sen- 
sible  thing.  Epaminondas  is  said  to  have  rarely  eaten 
anything  but  bread  and  honey.  The  Emperor  Augus- 
tus one  day  inquired  of  a  centenarian  how  he  had  kept 
his  vigor  of  mind  and  body  so  long ;  to  which  the 
veteran  replied  that  it  was  by  "  oil  without  and  honey 
within." '  Cicero,  in  his  "  Old  Age,"  classes  honey 
with  meat  and  milk  and  cheese  as  among  the  staple 
articles  with  which  a  well-kept  farm-house  will  be 
supplied. 

Italy  and  Greece,  in  fact  all  the  Mediterranean 
countries,  appear  to  have  been  famous  lands  for  honey. 
Mount  Hymettus,  Mount  Hybla,  and  Mount  Ida  pro- 
duced what  may  be  called  the  classic  honey  of  an«= 
tiquity,  an  article  doubtless  in  nowise  superior  to  ou£ 
best  products.  Leigh  Hunt's  "  Jar  of  Honey "  is 
mainly  distilled  from  Sicilian  history  and  literature, 
Theocritus  furnishing  the  best  yield.  Sicily  has  al- 
ways been  rich  in  bees.  Swinburne  (the  traveler  of  a 
hundred  years  ago)  says  the  woods  on  this  island 
abounded  in  wild  honey,  and  that  the  people  also  had 
many  hives  near  their  houses.  The  idyls  of  Theoc- 
ritus are  native  to  the  island  in  this  respect,  and 
abound  in  bees  — »  "  flat-nosed  bees  "  as  he  calls  them 


THE  PASTORAL   BEES.  «Y 

in  the  Seventh  Idyl  —  and  comparisons  in  which 
comb-honey  is  the  standard  of  the  most  delectabh 
this  world's  goods.  His  goatherds  can  think  of  no 
greater  bliss  than  that  the  mouth  be  filled  with  honey- 
combs, or  to  be  inclosed  in  a  chest  like  Daphnis  and 
fed  on  the  combs  of  bees ;  and  among  the  delectablea 
with  which  Arsinoe  cherishes  Adonis  are  "  honey*' 
cakes,"  and  other  tid-bits  made  of  "sweet  honey."  In 
the  country  of  Theocritus  this  custom  is  said  still  to 
prevail:  when  a  couple  are  married  the  attendants 
place  honey  in  their  mouths,  by  which  they  would  sym- 
bolize the  hope  that  their  love  may  be  as  sweet  to 
their  souls  as  honey  to  the  palate. 

It  was  fabled  that  Homer  was  suckled  by  a  priestess 
whose  breasts  distilled  honey;  and  that  once  when 
Pindar  lay  asleep  the  bees  dropped  honey  upon  his  lips. 
In  the  Old  Testament  the  food  of  the  promised  Im- 
manuel  was  to  be  butter  and  honey  (there  is  much 
doubt  about  the  butter  in  the  original),  that  he  might 
know  good  from  evil ;  and  Jonathan's  eyes  were  en- 
lightened, by  partaking  of  some  wood  or  wild  honey  ; 
"  See,  I  pray  you,  how  mine  eyes  have  been  enlight- 
ened, because  I  tasted  a  little  of  this  honey."  So  far 
as  this  part  of  his  diet  was  concerned,  therefore,  John 
the  Baptist,  during  his  sojourn  in  the  wilderness,  his 
divinity  school-days  in  the  mountains  and  plains  of 
Judea,  fared  extremely  well.  About  the  other  part, 
the  locusts,  or,  not  to  put  too  fine  a  point  on  it,  the 
grasshoppers,  as  much  cannot  be  said,  though  they 
were  among  the  creeping  and  leaping  tilings  the  chil 
dren  of  Israel  were  permitted  to  eat.  They  were  prob- 
ably not  eaten  raw,  but  roasted  in  that  most  primitive 
of  ovens,  a  hole  in  the  ground  made  hot  by  building 
a  fire  in  it.     The  locusts  and  honey  may  have  been 


88  BEES. 

served  together,  as  the  Bed  as  of  Ceylon  are  said  to 
season  their  meat  with  honey.  At  any  rate,  as  the  lo- 
cust is  often  a  great  plague  in  Palestine,  the  prophet  in 
eating  them  found  his  account  in  the  general  weal,  anc 
in  the  profit  of  the  pastoral  bees ;  the  fewer  locusts, 
the  more  flowers.  Owing  to  its  numerous  wild-flowers 
and  flowering  shrubs,  Palestine  has  always  been  a  fa- 
mous country  for  bees.  They  deposit  their  honey  in 
hollow  trees  as  our  bees  do  when  they  escape  from  the 
hive,  and  in  holes  in  the  rocks  as  ours  do  not.  In  a 
tropical  or  semi-tropical  climate  bees  are  quite  apt 
to  take  refuge  in  the  rocks,  but  where,  ice  and  snow 
prevail,  as  with  us,  they  are  much  safer  high  up  in  the 
trunk  of  a  forest  tree. 

The  best  honey  is  the  product  of  the  milder  parts  of 
the  temperate  zone.  There  are  too  many  rank  and 
poisonous  plants  in  the  tropics.  Honey  from  certain 
districts  of  Turkey  produces  headache  and  vomiting, 
and  that  from  Brazil  is  used  chiefly  as  medicine.  The 
honey  of  Mount  Hymettus  owes  its  fine  quality  to  wild 
thyme.  The  best  honey  in  Persia  and  in  Florida  is 
collected  from  the  orange  blossom.  The  celebrated 
honey  of  Narbonne  in  the  south  of  France  is  obtained 
from  a  species  of  rosemary.  In  Scotland  good  honey 
is  made  from  the  blossoming  heather. 

California  honey  is  white  and  delicate  and  highly 
perfumed,  and  now  takes  the  lead  in  the  market. 
But  honey  is  honey  the  world  over  ;  and  the  bee  is 
the  bee  still.  "  Men  may  degenerate,"  sa}rs  an  old 
traveler,  "  may  forget  the  arts  by  which  they  acquired 
renown ;  manufactories  may  fail,  and  commodities  be 
debased,  but  the  sweets  of  the  wild-flowers  of  the 
wilderness,  the  industry  and  natural  mechanics  of 
the  bee,  will  continue  without  change  or  derogation.'1 


II 

SHAKP  EYES 

AND  OTHER  PAPERS 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

i3harp  Eyes 3 

The  Apple  ..........    25 

A  Taste  of  Maine  Birch         .        •  ....    41 

Winter  Neighbors 65 

Notes  by  the  Way 

I.   The  Weather-wise  Muskrat        •         .        •        .         .         .84 
II.    Cheating  the  Squirrels .88 

III.  Fox  and  Hound 89 

IV.  The  Woodchuck  ,        ,        0        .        •        o        o        .    92 


SHARP  EYES  AND  OTHER  PAPERS. 


SHARP   EYES. 

•    Noting  how  one  eye  seconds  and  reinforces   the 
other,  I  have  often  amused  myself  by  wondering  what 
the  effect  would  be  if  one  could  go  on  opening  eye 
after  eye  to  the   number  say  of   a  dozen   or  more. 
What  would  he  see?     Perhaps  not  the  invisible  — 
not  the  odors  of  flowers  nor  the  fever  germs  in  the  air 
—  not  the  infinitely  small  of  the  microscope  nor  tho 
infinitely  distant  of  the  telescope.    This  would  require, 
not  more  eyes  so   much  as  an  eye  constructed  with 
more  and  different  lenses  ;  but  would  he  not  see  with 
augmented  power  within  the  natural  limits  of  vision  ? 
At  any  rate  some  persons  seem  to  have  opened   more 
eyes  than  others,  they  see  with  such  force  and  distinct- 
ness ;  their  vision  penetrates  the  tangle  ancLobscuriry 
where  that  of  others  fails  like  a  spent  or  impotent 
bullet.    How  many  eyes  did  Gilbert  White  open?  how 
many  did  Henry  Thoreau?  how  many  did  Audubon 'i 
how  many  does  the  hunter,  matching  his  sight  against 
the  keen  and  alert  sense  of  a  deer  or  a  moo.se,  or  a  fol 
or  a  wolf?     Not  outward  eyes,  but  inward.     We  opel 
another  eye  whenever  we  see  beyond  the  first  genera! 
features  or  outlines  of  things  —  whenever  we  grasp 
special  details  and  characteristic  markings   that   this 
mask  covers.     Science  confers  new  powers  of  vision. 


4  SHARP   EYES. 

Whenever  you  have  learned  to  discriminate  the  birds, 
or  the  plants,  or  the  geological  features  of  a  country, 
it  is  as  if  new  and  keener  eyes  were  added. 

Of  course  one  mast  not  only  see  sharply,  but  read 
aright  what  he  sees.  The  facts  in  the  life  of  Nature 
that  are  transpiring  about  us  are  like  written  words, 
that  the  observer  is  to  arrange  into  sentences.  Or 
the  writing  is  in  cipher  and  he  must  furnish  the  key,/ 
A  female  oriole  was  one  day  observed  very  much  pre* 
oecuoied  under  a  shed  where  the  refuse  from  the  horse 
stable  was  thrown.  She  hopped  about  among  the  barn, 
fowls,  scolding  them  sharply  when  they  came  too  neap 
her.  The  stable,  dark  and  cavernous,  was  just  be- 
yond. The  bird,  not  finding  what  she  wanted  outside, 
boldly  ventured  into  the  stable,  and  was  presently  cap* 
cured  by  the  farmer.  What  did  she  want?  was  the 
query.  What,  but  a  horsehair  for  her  nest  which  was 
in  an  apple-tree  near  by ;  and  she  was  so  bent  on  hav- 
ing one  that  I  have  no  doubt  she  would  have  tweaked 
one  out  of  the  horse's  tail  had  he  been  in  the  stable. 
Later  in  the  season  I  examined  her  nest  and  found  it 
sewed  through  arid  through  with  several  long  horse- 
hairs, so  that  the  bird  persisted  in  her  search  till  the 
hair  was  found. 

Little  dramas  and  tragedies  and  comedies,  littla 
characteristic  scenes,  are  always  being  enacted  in  the 
iives  of  the  birds,  if  our  e}^es  are  sharp  enough  to  see 
them.  Some  clever  observer  saw  this  little  comedy 
played  among  some  English  sparrows  and  wrote  an 
account  of  it  in  his  newspaper ;  it  is  too  good  not  to 
be  true :  A  male  bird  brought  to  his  box  a  large,  fine 
goose  feather,  which  is  a  great  find  for  a  sparrow  and 
much  coveted.  After  he  had  deposited  his  prize  and 
Shattered  his  gratuiations  over  it  he  went  away  in 


SHARP  BYES.  f 

quest  of  his  mate.     His  next-door  neighbors  female 

bird,  seeing  her  chance,  quickly  slipped  in  and 
the  feather,  —  and  here  the  wit  of  the  bird  came  out, 
for  instead  of  carrying  it  into  her  own  box  she  flew  \\  ith 
It  to  a  near  tree  and  hid  it  in  a  fork  of  the  branches, 
then  went  home,  and  when  her  neighbor  returned  witl 
his  mate  was  innocently  employed   about  her  own  af 
lairs.    The  proud  male,  finding  his  feather  -one,  came 
out  of  his  box  in  a  high  state  of  excitement,  and,  with 
wrath  in  his  manner  and  accusation  on  his  tongue, 
rushed  into  the  cot  of   the  female.     Not  finding  his 
goods   and   chattels   there    as    he   had   expected,    lie 
stormed  around  a  while,  abusing  everybody  in  gen 
and  his  neighbor  in  particular,  and  then  went,  away  as 
if  to  repair  the  loss.     As  soon  as  he  was  out  of  sierht 
the  shrewd  thief  went  and  brought  the  feather  home 
and  lined  her  own  domicile  with  it. 

I  was  much  amused  one  summer  day  in  seeing  :* 
bluebird  feeding  her  young  one  in  the  shaded  street  of 
a  large  town.     She  had  captured  a  cicada  or  harvest- 
fly,  and  after  bruising  it  a  while  on  the  ground  flew 
with  it  to  a  tree  and  placed  it  in  the  beak  of  the  young 
bird.     It  was  a  large  morsel,  and  the  mother  seemed 
to  have  doubts  of  her  chick's  ability  to  dispose  of  it, 
for  she  stood  near  and  watched  its  efforts  with  gn 
solicitude.     The  young  bird  struggled   valiantly  with 
the  cicada,  but  made  no  headway  in   swallowing  it, 
when  the  mother  took  it  from  him  and  flew  to   the 
sidewalk,  and  proceeded  to  break  and  bruise  it  more 
thoroughly.    Then  she  again  placed  it  in  his  beak,  and 
seemed  to  say,  "There,  try  it  now,"  and  sympathized 
so  thoroughly  with  his  efforts  that  she  repeated  many 
of  his  motions  and  contortions.     But  the  great  fly  wad 
unyielding,  and,  indeed,  seemed  ridiculously  dispropo* 


6  SHARP  EYES. 

fcioiied  to  the  beak  that  held  it.  The  young  bird  flut» 
tered  and  fluttered  and  screamed,  "  I  'm  stuck,  I  'm 
stuck,"  till  the  anxious  parent  again  seized  the  morsel 
and  carried  it  to  an  iron  railing,  where  she  came  down 
apon  it  for  the  space  of  a  minute  with  all  the  force 
and  momentum  her  beak  could  command.  Then  she 
offered  it  to  her  young  a  third  time,  but  with  the 
Same  result  as  before,  except  that  this  time  the  bird 
dropped  it ;  but  she  was  at  the  ground  as  soon  as  the 
cicada  was,  and  taking  it  in  her  beak  flew  some  dis- 
tance to  a  Irish  board  fence  where  she  sat  motionless 
for  some  moments.  While  pondering  the  problem 
hew  that  fly  should  be  broken,  the  male  bluebird  ap- 
proached her,  and  said  very  plainly,  and  I  thought 
rather  curtly,  "  Give  me  that  bug,"  but  she  quickly 
resetted  his  interference  and  flew  farther  away,  where 
she  sat  apparently  quite  discouraged  when  I  last  saw 
her. 

The  bluebird  is  a  home  bird,  and  I  am  never  tired 
of  recurring  to  him.  His  coming  or  reappearance  in 
the  spring  marks  a  new  chapter  in  the  progress  of  the 
season  ;  things  are  never  quite  the  same  after  one  has 
heard  that  note.  The  past  spring  the  males  came 
about  a  week  in  advance  of  the  females.  A  fine  male 
lingered  about  my  grounds  and  orchard  all  the  time, 
apparently  waiting  the  arrival  of  his  mate.  He  called 
and  warbled  every  day,  as  if  he  felt  sure  she  was 
within  ear-shot,  and  could  be  hurried  up.  Now  lie 
warbled  half-angrily  or  upbraidingly,  then  coaxingly, 
then  cheerily  and  confidently,  the  next  moment  in  a 
plaintive,  far-away  manner.  He  would  half  open  his 
ivings,  and  twinkle  them  caressingly,  as  if  beckoning 
his  mate  to  his  heart.  One  morning  she  had  come, 
but  was  shy  and  reserved.     The  fond  male  flew  to  a 


SHARP   EYES.  7 

knot-hole  in  an  old  apple-tree,  and  coaxed  her  to  hia 
side.     I  heard  a  fine  confidential  warble,  —  the  old, 

old  story.  But  the  female  flew  to  a  near  tree,  and 
uttered  her  plaintive,  homesick  note  The  male  went 
and  got  some  dry  grass  or  bark  in  his  beak,  and  flew 
again  to  the  hole  in  the  old  tree,  and  promised  unre- 
mitting devotion,  but  the  other  said  "  nay.'*  and  fl 
away  in  the  distance.  When  he  saw  her  going,  or 
rather  heard  her  distant  note,  he  dropped  his  stuff, 
and  cried  out  in  a  tone  that  said  plainly  enough, 
(i  Wait  a  minute.  One  word,  please,"  and  rlew  swiftly 
in  pursuit.  He  won  her  before  long,  however,  and 
early  in  April  the  pair  were  established  in  one  of  the 
four  or  five  boxes  I  had  put  up  for  them,  but  not 
until  they  had  changed  their  minds  several  times.  As 
soon  as  the  first  brood  had  flown,  and  while  they  were 
yet  under  their  parents'  care,  they  began  another  nest 
in  one  of  the  other  boxes,  the  female,  as  usual,  doing 
all  the  work,  and  the  male  all  the  complimenting. 

A  source  of  occasional  great  distress  to  the  mother- 
bird  was  a  white  cat  that  sometimes  followed  me 
about.  The  cat  had  never  been  known  to  catch  a 
bird,  but  she  had  a  way  of  watching  them  that  was 
very  embarrassing  to  the  bird.  Whenever  she  ap- 
peared, the  mother  bluebird  would  set  up  that  pitiful 
melodious  plaint.  One  morning  the  cat  was  standing 
by  me,  when  the  bird  came  with  her  beak  loaded  with 
building  material,  and  alighted  above  me  to  sun 
the  place  before  going  into  the  box.  When  she  saw 
the  cat,  she  was  greatly  disturbed,  and  in  her  agitation 
could  not  keep  her  hold  upon  all  her  material.  Straw 
after  straw  came  eddying  down,  till  not  half  her  origi- 
nal burden  remained.  After  the  cat  had  gone  away, 
the  bird's  alarm  subsided,   till,  presently  seeing  the 


b  SHARP  EYES. 

eoast  clear,  she  flew  quickly  to  the  box  and  pitched  in 
her  remaining  straws  with  the  greatest  precipitation, 
and,  without  going  in  to  arrange  them,  as  was  her 
Wont,  flew  away  in  evident  relief. 

In  the  cavity  of  ?n  apple-tree  but  a  few  yards  off* 
find  much  nearer  the  house  than  they  usually  build, 
a  pair  of  high-holes,  or  golden-shafted  woodpeckers, 
took  uj)  their  abode.  A  knot-hole  which  led  to  the 
decayed  interior  was  enlarged,  the  live  wood  being  cut 
away  as  clean  as  a  squirrel  would  have  done  it.  The 
inside  preparations  I  could  not  witness,  but  day  after 
day,  as  I  passed  near,  I  heard  the  bird  hammering 
away,  evidently  beating  down  obstructions  and  shap- 
ing and  enlarging  the  cavity.  The  chips  were  not 
brought  out,  but  were  used  rather  to  floor  the  interior. 
The  woodpeckers  are  not  nest-builders,  but  rather 
nest-carvers. 

The  time  seemed  very  short  before  the  voices  of  the 
young  were  heard  in  the  heart  of  the  old  tree,  —  at 
first  feebly,  but  waxing  stronger  day  by  day  until 
they  could  be  heard  many  rods  distant.  When  I  put 
my  hand  upon  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  they  would  set 
up  an  eager,  expectant  chattering ;  but  if  I  climbed 
up  it  toward  the  opening,  they  soon  detected  the  un- 
usual sound  and  would  hush  quickly,  only  now  and 
then  uttering  a  warning  note.  Long  before  they  were 
fully  fledged  they  clambered  up  to  the  orifice  to  re- 
ceive their  food.  As  but  one  could  stand  in  the  open- 
ing  at  a  time,  there  was  a  good  deal  of  elbowing  and 
struggling  for  this  position.  T±  was  a  very  desirable 
one  aside  from  the  advantages  it  had  when  food  was 
served  ;  it  looked  out  upon  the  great  shining  world, 
into  which  the  young  birds  seemed  never  tired  of  gaz. 
ing.     The  fresh  air  must  have  been  a  consideration 


SHARP  EYES.  9 

also,  for  the  interior  or  a  high-hole's  dwelling  fa  not 
sweet.  When  the  parent  birds  came  with  food  the 
young  one  in  the  opening  did  not  get  it  all,  but  tor 
he  had  received  a  portion,  either  on  his  own  motion  I 
on  a  hint  from  the  old  one,  he  would  give  place  to  the 
one  behind  him.  Still,  one  bird  evidently  outstripped 
his  fellows,  and  in  the  race  of  life  was  two  or  three 
days  in  advance  of  them.  His  voice  was  loudest  ;uid 
his  head  oftenest  at  the  window.  But  I  noticed  that 
when  he  had  kept  the  position  too  long,  the  oth< 
evidently  made  it  uncomfortable  in  his  rear,  and,  after 
"  fidgeting  "  about  a  while,  he  would  be  compelled  to 
"back  down."  But  retaliation  was  then  easy,  and  I 
fear  his  mates  spent  few  easy  moments  at  that  look- 
out. They  would  close  their  eyes  and  slide  back  into 
the  cavity  as  if  the  world  had  suddenty  lost  all  its 
charms  for  them. 

This  bird  was,  of  course,  the  first  to  leave  the  nrst 
For  two  days  before  that  event  he  kept  his  position  in 
the  opening  most  of  the  time  and  sent  forth  his  str 
voice  incessantly.  The  old  ones  abstained  from  feed- 
ing him  almost  entirely,  no  doubt  to  encourage  his 
exit.  As  I  stood  looking  at  him  one  afternoon  and 
noting  his  progress,  he  suddenly  reached  a  resolution, 
—  seconded,  I  have  no  doubt,  from  the  rear,  -  -  and 
launched  forth  upon  his  untried  wings.  They  served 
him  well  and  carried  him  about  fifty  yards  up-hill  the 
first  heat.  The  second  day  after,  the  next  in  size  and 
spirit  left  in  the  same  manner;  then  another,  till 
only  one  remained.  The  parent  birds  ceased  their 
visits  to  him,  and  for  one  day  he  called  and  called  till 
our  ears  were  tired  of  the  sound.  His  was  the  faint- 
est heart  of  all.  Then  he  had  none  to  encourage  hin3 
from  behind.     He  left  the  nest  and  clung  to  the  outer 


10  SHAUP  EYES. 

bowl  of  the  tree,  and  yelped  and  piped  for  an  hour 
longer ;  then  he  committed  himself  to  his  wings  and 
•vent  his  way  like  the  rest. 

A  young  farmer  in  the  western  part  of  New  York, 
who  has  a  sharp,  discriminating  eye,  sends  me  some 
interesting  notes  about  a  tame  high-hole  he  once  had 

"Did  you  ever  notice,"  says  he,  "that  the  high* 
hole  never  eats  anything  that  he  cannot  pick  up  with 
his  tongue  ?  At  least  this  was  the  case  with  a  young 
one  I  took  from  the  nest  and  tamed.  He  could  thrust 
out  his  tongue  two  or  three  inches,  and  it  was  amusing 
to  see  his  efforts  to  eat  currants  from  the  hand.  He 
would  run  out  his  tongue  and  try  to  stick  it  to  the 
currant;  failing  in  that,  he  would  bend  his  tongue 
around  it  like  a  hook  and  try  to  raise  it  by  a  sudden 
jerk.  But  he  never  succeeded,  the  round  fruit  w  »uld 
roll  and  slip  away  every  time.  He  never  seemed  to 
think  of  taking  it  in  his  beak.  His  tongue  w;  s  in 
constant  use  to  find  out  the  nature  of  everythirg  he 
saw ;  a  nail-hole  in  a  board  or  any  similar  hole  was 
carefully  explored.  If  he  was  held  near  the  face  he 
would  soon  be  attracted  by  the  eye  and  thrust  his 
tongue  into  it.  In  this  way  he  gained  the  respect  of 
a  number  of  half-grown  cats  that  were  around  the 
house.  I  wished  to  make  them  familiar  to  each  other, 
80  there  would  be  less  danger  of  their  killiug  him.  So 
I  would  take  them  both  on  my  knee,  when  the  bird 
would  soon  notice  the  kitten's  eyes,  and  leveling  his 
bill  as  carefully  as  a  marksman  levels  his  rifle,  he 
would  remain  so  a  minute  when  he  would  dart  his 
tongue  into  the  cat's  eye.  This  was  held  by  the  cats 
to  be  very  mysterious :  being  struck  in  the  eye  by 
something  invisible  to  them.  They  soon  acquired 
such  a  terror  of  him  that  they  would  avoid  him  and 


SHARP  EYES.  11 

run  away  whenever  they  saw  his  bill  turned  in  their 
direction.  He  never  would  swallow  a  grasshopper 
even  when  it  was  placed  in  his  throat;  he  would  shake 
himself  until  he  had  thrown  it  out  of  his  mouth. 
4  best  hold  '  was  ants.  He  never  was  surprised  at  any 
thing,  and  never  was  afraid  of  anything.  II.-  would 
drive  the  turkey  gobbler  and  the  rooster.  He  would 
advance  upon  them  holding  one  wing  up  as  high  as 
possible,  as  if  to  strike  with  it,  and  shuffle  along  the 
ground  toward  them,  scolding  all  the  while  in  a  harsh 
voice.  I  feared  at  first  that  they  might  kill  him,  but 
I  soon  found  that  he  was  able  to  take  care  of  himself 
I  would  turn  over  stones  and  dig  into  ant-hills  fo* 
him,  and  he  would  lick  up  the  ants  so  fast  that  a 
stream  of  them  seemed  going  into  his  mouth  unceas. 
ingly.  I  kept  him  till  late  in  the  fall,  when  he  disap- 
peared, probably  going  south,  and  I  never  saw  him 
again." 

My  correspondent  also  sends  me  some  interesting 
observations  about  the  cuckoo.  He  says  a  large  g<  ><  >se> 
berry  bush  standing  in  the  border  of  an  old  hedge- 
row, in  the  midst  of  open  fields,  and  not  far  from  his 
house,  was  occupied  by  a  pair  of  cuckoos  for  two  sea- 
sons in  succession,  and,  after  an  interval  of  a  year,  for 
two  seasons  more.  This  gave  him  a  good  chance  to 
observe  them.  He  says  the  mother-bird  lays  a  single 
egg,  and  sits  upon  it  a  number  of  days  before  Living 
fche  second,  so  that  he  has  seen  one  young  bird  nearly 
grown,  a  second  just  hatched,  and  a  whole  egg  all  in 
the  nest  at  once.  "  So  far  as  I  have  seen,  this  is  the 
settled  practice,  —  the  young  leaving  the  nest  one  at 
a  time  to  the  number  of  six  or  eight.  The  you 
have  quite  the  look  of  the  young  of  the  dove  in  manj 
respects.     When  nearly  grown  they  are  covered  with 


12  SHARP  EYES. 

long  blue  pin-feathers  as  long  as  darning-needles, 
without  a  bit  of  plumage  on  them.  They  part  on  the 
back  and  hang  down  on  each  side  by  their  own  weight 
With  its  curious  feathers  and  misshapen  body  the 
young  bird  is  anything  but  handsome.  They  never 
open  their  mouths  when  approached,  as  many  young 
birds  do,  but  sit  perfectly  still,  hardly  moving  whea 
touched."  He  also  notes  the  unnatural  indifference 
of  the  mother-bird  when  her  nest  and  young  are  ap- 
proached. She  makes  no  sound,  but  sits  quietly  on  a 
near  branch  in  apparent  perfect  unconcern. 

These  observations,  together  with  the  fact  that  the 
egg  of  the  cuckoo  is  occasionally  found  in  the  nests  of 
other  birds,  raise  the  inquiry  whether  our  bird  is 
slowly  relapsing  into  the  habit  of  the  European  spe- 
cies, which  always  foists  its  egg  upon  other  birds  ;  or 
whether,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  not  mending  its 
manners  in  this  respect.  It  has  but  little  to  unlearn 
or  to  forget  in  the  one  case,  but  great  progress  to  make 
in  the  other.  How  far  is  its  rudimentary  nest  —  a 
mere  platform  of  coarse  twigs  and  dry  stalks  of  weeds 
—  from  the  deep,  compact,  finely  woven  and  finely 
modeled  nest  of  the  goldfinch  or  king-bird,  and  what 
a  gulf  between  its  indifference  toward  its  young  and 
their  solicitude  !  Its  irregular  manner  of  laying  also 
seems  better  suited  to  a  parasite  like  our  cow-bird,  or 
the  European  cuckoo,  than  to  a  regular  nest-builder. 

This  observer,  like  most  sharp-eyed  persons,  sees 
plenty  of  interesting  things  as  he  goes  about  his  work. 
He  one  day  saw  a  white  swallow,  which  is  of  rare 
occurrence.  He  saw  a  bird,  a  sparrow  he  thinks,  fly 
against  the  side  of  a  horse  and  fill  his  beak  with  hair 
from  the  loosened  coat  of  the  animal.  He  saw  a 
shrike  pursue  a  chickadee,  when  the  latter  escaped  by 


SHARP  EYES.  13 

taking-  refuge  in  a  small  hole  in  a  tree.  One  day  In 
early  spring  he  saw  two  hen-hawks  that  were  circling 
and  screaming  high  in  air,  approach  each  other,  ex- 
tend a  claw,  and,  clasping  them  together,  fall  toward 
the  earth  flapping  and  struggling  as  if  they  were  tied 
together  ;  on  nearing  the  ground  they  separated  and 
goared  aloft  again.  He  supposed  that  it  was  not  a 
passage  of  war  but  of  love,  and  that  the  hawks  were 
toying  fondly  with  each  other. 

He  further  relates  a  curious  circumstance  of  finding 
a  humming-bird  in  the  upper  part  of  a  barn  with  its 
bill  stuck  fast  in  a  crack  of  one  of  the  large  timbers, 
dead,  of  course,  with  wings  extended,  and  as  dry  as  a 
chip.  The  bird  seems  to  have  died  as  it  had  lived,  on 
the  wing,  and  its  last  act  was  indeed  a  ghastly  parody 
of  its  living  career.  Fancy  this  nimble,  flashing  sprite^, 
whose  life  was  passed  probing  the  honeyed  depths  of 
flowers,  at  last  thrusting  its  bill  into  a  crack  in  a  dry 
timber  in  a  hay-loft,  and,  with  spread  wings,  ending 
its  existence. 

When    the    air  is  damp  and  heavy,  swallows   fre- 
quently  hawk   for  insects   about   cattle    and  moving 
herds  in  the    field.     My  farmer  describes  how  they 
attended  him  one  foggy  day,  as  he  was  mowing  in  the 
meadow  with  a  mowing-machine.     It  had  been  fci_ 
for  two  days,   and    the    swallows  were  very  hungry, 
and  the  insects  stupid  and  inert.     When  the  sound  of 
his  machine  was  heard,  the  swallows  appeared  am 
attended  him  like  a  brood  of  hungry  chickens.     lie 
says    there   was   a   continued   rush    of   purple  win 
over  the  "cut-bar,"  and  just  where  it  was  causing  the 
grass  to  tremble  and  fall.     Without  his  assistance  the 
swallows  would  doubtless  have  gone  hungry  yet  an- 
other day* 


14  SHARP  EYES. 

Of  the  hen-hawk,  he  has  observed  that  both  male 
and  female  take  part  in  incubation.  "I  was  rather 
surprised,"  he  says,  "  on  one  occasion,  to  see  how 
quickly  they  change  places  on  the  nest.  The  nest  was 
in  a  tall  beech,  and  the  leaves  were  not  yet  fully  out. 
I  could  see  the  head  and  neck  of  the  hawk  over  the 
edge  of  the  nest,  when  I  saw  the  other  hawk  coming 
clown  through  the  air  at  full  speed.  I  expected  he 
would  alight  near  by,  but  instead  of  that  he  struck 
directly  upon  the  nest,  his  mate  getting  out  of  the 
way  barely  in  time  to  avoid  being  hit ;  it  seemed  al- 
most as  if  he  had  knocked  her  off  the  nest.  I  hardly 
see  how  they  can  make  such  a  rush  on  the  nest  with- 
out danger  to  the  eggs." 

The  king-bird  will  worry  the  hawk  as  a  whiffet  dog 
will  worry  a  bear.  It  is  by  his  persistence  and  au- 
dacity, not  by  any  injury  he  is  capable  of  dealing  his 
great  antagonist.  The  king-bird  seldom  more  than 
dogs  the  hawk,  keeping  above  and  between  his  wings, 
and  making  a  great  ado ;  but  my  correspondent  says 
he  once  "  saw  a  king-bird  riding  on  a  hawk's  back. 
The  hawk  flew  as  fast  as  possible,  and  the  king- 
bird sat  upon  his  shoulders  in  triumph  until  they 
bad  passed  out  of  sight,"  — tweaking  his  feathers,  no 
doubt,  and  threatening  to  scalp  him  the  next  moment* 

That  near  relative  of  the  king-bird,  the  great 
crested  fly-catcher,  has  one  well  known  peculiarity  ; 
he  appears  never  to  consider  his  nest  finished  until  it 
contains  a  cast-off  snake-skin.  My  alert  correspon- 
dent one  day  saw  him  eagerly  catch  up  an  onion  skin 
and  make  off  with  it,  either  deceived  by  it  or  else 
thinking  it  a  good  substitute  for  the  coveted  material 

One  day  in  May,  walking  in  the  woods,  I  came 
upon  the  nest  of  a  whippoorwill,  or  rather  its  eggs. 


SHARP  EYES.  15 

Tor  it  builds  no  nest,  —  two  elliptical  whitish  spotted 
dggs  lying  upon  the  dry  leaves.  My  foot  was  within 
a  yard  of  the  mother-bird  before  she  flew.  1  won- 
dered what  a  sharp  eye  would  detect  curious  01  ch 
acteristic  in  the  ways  of  the  bird,  so  1  came  to  the 
place  many  times  and  had  a  look.  It  was  a] ways  a 
task  to  separate  the  bird  from  her  surroundii 
though  I  stood  within  a  few  feet  of  her,  and  knew 
exactly  where  to  look.  One  had  to  hear  on  with 
eye,,  as  it  were,  and  refuse  to  be  baffled.  The  sticks 
and  leaves,  and  bits  of  black  or  dark-brown  bark,  were 
all  exactly  copied  in  the  bird's  plumage.  And  then 
she  did  sit  so  close,  and  simulate  so  well  a  shape]  I 
decaying  piece  of  wood  or  bark!  Twice  I  brought 
a  companion*  and  guiding  his  eye  to  the  spot,  nottd 
how  difficult  it  was  for  him  to  make  out  there,  in  full 
view  upon  the  dry  leaves,  any  semblance  to  a  bird. 
AY  hen  the  bird  returned  after  being  disturbed,  she 
would  alight  within  a  few  inches  of  her  eggs,  a 
then,  after  a  moment's  pause,  hobble  awkwardly  upon 
them. 

After  the  young  had  appeared,  all  the  wit  of  the 
bird  came  into  play.  I  was  on  hand  the  next  day, 
I  think.  The  mother-bird  sprang  up  when  I  was 
within  a  pace  of  her,  and  in  doing  so  fanned  the 
leaves  with  her  wings  till  they  sprang  up  too;  aa 
the  leaves  started  the  young  started,  and,  being  oi 
the  same  color,  to  tell  which  was  the  leaf  and  which 
the  bird  was  a  trying  task  to  any  eye.  I  came  the 
next  day,  when  the  same  tactics  were  repeated.  Once 
a  leaf  fell  upon  one  of  the  young  birds  and  nearly 
hid  it.  The  young  are  covered  with  a  reddish  down. 
like  a  young  partridge,  and  soon  follow  then  mother 
about.     When  disturbed,    they   gave    but    one    leap, 


16  SHARP  EYES. 

then  settled  down,  perfectly  motionless  and  stupid* 
with  eyes  closed.  The  parent  bird,  on  these  occasions, 
made  frantic  efforts  to  decoy  me  away  from  her 
young.  She  would  fly  a  few  paces  and  fall  upon  hei 
breast,  and  a  spasm,  like  that  of  death,  would  run 
through  her  tremulous  outstretched  wings  and  pros- 
trate body.  She  kept  a  sharp  eye  out  the  meanwhile 
to  see  if  the  ruse  took,  and  if  it  did  not,  she  was 
quickly  cured,  and  moving  about  to  some  other  point, 
tried  to  draw  my  attention  as  before.  When  followed 
she  always  alighted  upon  the  ground,  dropping  down 
in  a  sudden  peculiar  way.  The  second  or  third  day 
both  old  and  young  had  disappeared. 

The  whippoorwill  walks  as  awkwardly  as  a  swal- 
low, which  is  as  awkward  as  a  man  in  a  bag,  and  yet 
she  manages  to  lead  her  young  about  the  woods.  The 
latter,  I  think,  move  by  leaps  and  sudden  spurts,  their 
protective  coloring  shielding  them  most  effectively, 
Wilson  once  came  upon  the  mother-bird  and  her 
brood  in  the  woods,  and,  though  they  were  at  his  very 
feet,  was  so  baffled  by  the  concealment  of  the  young 
that  he  was  about  to  give  up  the  search,  much  disap- 
pointed, when  he  perceived  something  "  like  a  slight 
moldiness  among  the  withered  leaves,  and,  on  stoop- 
ing  down,  discovered  it  to  be  a  young  whippoorwill^ 
seemingly  asleep."  Wilson's  description  of  the  young 
is  very  accurate,  as  its  downy  covering  does  look  pre- 
cisely like  a  "  slight  moldiness."  Returning  a  few 
moments  afterwrard  to  the  spot  to  get  a  pencil  he  had 
forgotten,  he  could  find  neither  old  nor  young. 

It  takes  an  eye  to   see  a  partridge  in  the  woods 
motionless   upon  the  leaves ;   this   sense  needs   to  b( 
as  sharp  as  that  of  smell  in  hounds  and  pointers ;  and 
yet  I  know  an   unkempt  youth  that  seldom  fails  tc 


SHARP   EYES.  17 

see  the  bird  and  shoot  it  before  it  takes  wing.  I 
think  he  sees  it  as  soon  as  it  sees  him,  and  before 
it  suspects  itself  seen.  What  a  training  to  the  eye 
is  hunting!  To  pick  out  the  game  from  its  surround- 
ings, the  grouse  from  the  leaves,  the  gray  squirrel  from 
the  mossy  oak  limb  it  hugs  so  closely,  the  red  fox 
from  the  ruddy  or  brown  or  gray  field,  the  rabbit  from 
fche  stubble,  or  the  white  hare  from  the  snow,  requires 
the  best  powers  of  this  sense.  A  woodchu.-k,  motion- 
less  in  the  fields  or  upon  a  rock,  looks  very  much  like 
a  large  stone  or  bowlder,  yet  a  keen  eye  knows  the 
difference  at  a  glance,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away. 

A  man  has  a  sharper  eye  than  a  dog,  or  a  fox,  or 
than  any  of  the  wild  creatures,  but  not  so  sharp  an  ear 
or  nose.  But  in  the  birds  he  finds  his  match.  1  low- 
quickly  the  old  turkey  discovers  the  hawk,  a  mere 
speck  against  the  sky,  and  how  quickly  the  hawk  dis- 
covers you  if  you  happen  to  be  secreted  in  the  bushes, 
or  behind  the  fence  near  which  he  alights!  One  ad- 
vantage the  bird  surely  has,  and  that  is,  owing  to  the 
form,  structure,  and  position  of  the  eye,  it  has  a  much 
larger  field  of  vision  —  indeed,  can  probably  see  in 
nearly  every  direction  at  the  same  instant,  behind  as 
well  as  before.  Man's  field  of  vision  embraces  less 
than  half  a  circle  horizontal^,  and  still  less  vertically  : 
Ms  brow  and  brain  prevent  him  from  seeing  wi  I 
many  degrees  of  the  zenith  without  a  movement  of  tin 
head;  the  bird,  on  the  other  hand,  takes  in  nearly  thi 
whole  sphere  at  a  glance. 

I  find  I  see,  almost  without  effort,  nearly  every  bird 
within  sight  in  the  field  or  wood  I  pass  through  (a  llit 
of  the  wing,  a  flirt  of  the  tail  are  enough,  though  the 
flickering  leaves  do  all  conspire  to  hide  them  ),  and 
tihat   with  like  ease  the   birds   see    me,  though,  un- 


18  SHARP  EYES. 

questionably,  the  chances  are  immensely  in  their  favor. 
The  eye  sees  what  it  has  the  means  of  seeing,  truly. 
You  must  have  the  bird  in  your  heart  before  you  can 
find  it  in  the  bush.  The  eye  must  have  purpose  and 
aim.  No  one  ever  yet  found  the  walking  fern  who 
did  not  have  the  walking  fern  in  his  mind.  A  per- 
son whose  eye  is  full  of  Indian  relics  picks  them  up  in 
every  field  he  walks  through. 

One  season  I  was  interested  in  the  tree-frogs ;  espe- 
cially the  tiny  piper  that  one  nears  about  the  woods 
and  brushy  fields  —  the  hyla  of  the  swamps  become 
a  denizen  of  the  trees  ;  I  had  never  seen  him  in  this 
new  role.  But  this  season,  having  hylas  in  mind,  or 
rather  being  ripe  for  them,  I  several  times  came  across 
them.  One  Sunday,  walking  amid  some  bushes,  I  cap- 
tured two.  They  leaped  before  me  as  doubtless  they 
had  done  many  times  before ;  but  though  I  was  not 
looking  for  or  thinking  of  them,  yet  they  were  quickly 
recognized,  because  the  eye  had  been  commissioned  to 
find  them.  On  another  occasion,  not  long  afterward, 
I  was  hurriedly  loading  my  gun  in  the  October  woods 
in  hopes  of  overtaking  a  gray  squirrel  that  was 
fast  escaping  through  the  tree-tops,  when  one  of  these 
lilliput  frogs,  the  color  of  the  fast-yellowing  leaves, 
leaped  near  me.  I  saw  him  only  out  of  the  corner  of 
my  eye  and  yet  bagged  him,  because  I  had  already 
made  him  my  own. 

Nevertheless,  the  habit  of  observation  is  the  habit 
of  clear  and  decisive  gazing.  Not  by  a  first  casual 
glance,  but  by  a  steady  deliberate  aim  of  the  eye  are 
the  rare  and  characteristic  things  discovered.  You 
must  look  intently  and  hold  your  eye  firmly  to  the 
spot,  to  see  more  than  do  the  rank  and  file  of  man- 
kind.    The  sharp-shooter  picks  out  his  man  and  knows 


SHARP   EVES  ]., 

him  with  fatal  certainty  from  a  stump,  or  a  rock,  or  a 

cap  on  a  pole.  The  phrenologists  do  well  to  locate,  Dot 
only  form,  color,  and  weight,  in  the  region  of  the  eye, 
but  also  a  faculty  which  they  call  individuality  —  that 
which  separates,  discriminates,  and  sees  in  every  object 
its  essential  character.  This  is  just  as  necessary  to 
the  naturalist  as  to  the  artist  or  the  poet.  The  sharp 
eye  notes  specific  points  and  differences,  —  it  seizes 
upon  and  preserves  the  individuality  of  the  thing. 

Persons  frequently  describe  to  me  some  bird  they 
have  seen  or  heard  and  ask  me  to  name  it,  but  in  most 
cases  the  bird  might  be  any  one  of  a  dozen,  or  else 
it  is  totally  unlike  any  bird  found  in  this  continent. 
They  have  either  seen  falsely  or  else  vaguely.  Not 
so  the  farm  youth  who  wrote  me  one  winter  day  that 
he  had  seen  a  single  pair  of  strange  birds,  which  lie 
describes  as  follows:  "They  were  about  the  size  of 
the  'chippie,'  the  tops  of  their  heads  were  red,  and 
the  breast  of  the  male  was  of  the  same  color,  while 
that  of  the  female  was  much  lighter;  their  rumps 
were  also  faintly  tinged  with  red.  If  I  have  described 
them  so  that  you  would  know  them,  please  write  me 
their  names."  There  can  be  little  doubt  but  the 
young  observer  had  seen  a  pair  of  red-polls,  —  a  bird 
related  to  the  goldfinch,  and  that  occasionally  comes 
down  to  us  in  the  winter  from  the  far  north.  Another 
time,  the  same  youth  wrote  that  he  had  seen  a  strange 
bird,  the  color  of  a  sparrow,  that  alighted  on  fen 
and  buildings  as  well  as  upon  the  ground,  and  that 
walked.  This  last  fact  shoved  the  youth's  discrimi- 
nating eye  and  settled  the  case.  I  knew  it  to  be  a 
species  of  the  lark,  and  from  the  size,  color,  Beason, 
etc.,  the  tit-lark.  But  how  many  persons  would  have 
observed  that  the  bird  walked  instead  of  hopped  ? 


20  SHARP  EYES. 

Some  friends  of  mine  who  lived  in  the  country  tried 
to  describe  to  me  a  bird  that  built  a  nest  in  a  tree 
within  a  few  feet  of  the  house.  As  it  was  a  brown 
bird,  I  should  have  taken  it  for  a  wood-thrush,  had 
not  the  nest  been  described  as  so  thin  and  loose  that 
from  beneath  the  eggs  could  be  distinctly  seen.  The 
most  pronounced  feature  in  the  description  was  the 
barred  appearance  of  the  under  side  of  the  bird's  taiL 
I  was  quite  at  sea,  until  one  day,  when  we  were  driv- 
ing out,  a  cuckoo  flew  across  the  road  in  front  of  us„ 
when  my  friends  exclaimed,  "  There  is  our  bird  !  "  I 
had  never  known  a  cuckoo  to  build  near  a  house,  and 
I  had  never  noted  the  appearance  the  tail  presents 
when  viewed  from  beneath  ;  but  if  the  bird  had  been 
described  in  its  most  obvious  features,  as  slender,  with 
a  long  tail,  cinnamon  brown  above  and  white  beneath, 
with  a  curved  bill,  any  one  who  knew  the  bird  would 
have  recognized  the  portrait. 

We  think  we  have  looked  at  a  thing  sharply  until 
we  are  asked  for  its  specific  features.  1  thought  1 
knew  exactly  the  form  of  the  leaf  of  the  tulip-tree, 
until  one  day  a  lady  asked  me  to  draw  the  outline  of 
one.  A  good  observer  is  quick  to  take  a  hint  and  to 
follow  it  up.  Most  of  the  facts  of  nature,  especially 
in  the  life  of  the  birds  and  animals,  are  well  screened. 
We  do  not  see  the  play  because  we  do  not  look  in- 
iently  enough.  The  other  day  I  was  sitting  with  a 
friend  upon  a  high  rock  in  the  woods,  near  a  small 
stream,  when  we  saw  a  water-snake  swimming  across 
a  pool  toward  the  opposite  bank.  Any  eye  would 
have  noted  it,  perhaps  nothing  more.  A  little  closer 
and  sharper  gaze  revealed  the  fact  that  the  snake  bore 
something  in  its  mouth,  which,  as  we  went  down  to 
investigate,  proved  to  be  a  small  cat-fish,  three    o* 


SHARP  EYES.  21 

tour  inches  long.  The  snake  had  captured  it  in  the 
pool,  and,  like  any  other  fisherman,  wanted  to  get  its 
prey  to  dry  land,  although  itself  lived  mostly  in  the 
water.  Here,  we  said,  is  being  enacted  a  little  tragedy, 
that  would  have  escaped  any  but  sharp  eyes.  The 
snake,  which  was  itself  small,  had  the  fish  by  the 
throat,  the  hold  of  vantage  among  all  creatures,  and 
jclung  to  it  with  great  tenacity.  The  snake  knew  that 
its  best  tactics  was  to  get  upon  dry  land  as  soon  as 
possible.  It  could  not  swallow  its  victim  alive,  and  it 
could  not  strangle  it  in  the  water.  For  a  while  it 
tried  to  kill  its  game  by  holding  it  up  out  of  the 
water,  but  the  fish  grew  heavy,  and  every  few  mo- 
ments its  struggles  brought  down  the  snake's  head. 
This  would  not  do.  Compressing  the  fish's  throat 
would  not  shut  off  its  breath  under  such  circum- 
stances, so  the  wily  serpent  tried  to  get  ashore  with  it, 
and  after  several  attempts  succeeded  in  effecting  a 
landing  on  a  flat  rock.  But  the  fish  died  hard.  Cat- 
fish do  not  give  up  the  ghost  in  a  hurry.  Its  throat 
was  becoming  congested,  but  the  snake's  distended 
jaws  must  have  ached.  It  was  like  a  petrified  gape. 
Then  the  spectators  became  very  curious  and  close  in 
their  scrutiny,  and  the  snake  determined  to  withdraw 
from  the  public  gaze  and  finish  the  business  in  hand 
to  its  own  notions.  But,  when  gently  but  firmly  n- 
monstrated  with  by  my  friend  with  his  walking-stick, 
it  dropped  the  fish  and  retreated  in  high  dudgeon  be- 
neath a  stone  in  the  bed  of  the  creek.  The  fish,  witl 
a  swollen  and  angry  throat,  went  its  way  also. 

Birds,  I  say,  have  wonderfully  keen  eyes.  Throw 
a  fresh  bone  or  a  piece  of  meat  upon  the  snow  in 
winter,  and  see  how  soon  the  crows  will  discover  it 
and  be  on  hand.     If  it  be  near  the  house  or  barn,  the 


22  SHARP  EYES. 

crow  that  first  discovers  it  will  alight  near  it,  to  make 
sure  he  is  not  deceived ;  then  be  will  go  away,  and 
soon  return  with  a  companion.  The  two  alight  a  few 
yards  from  the  bone,  and  after  some  delay,  during 
;vhich  the  vicinity  is  sharply  scrutinized,  one  of  the 
srows  advances  boldly  to  within  a  few  feet  of  the 
coveted  prize.  Here  he  pauses,  and  if  no  trick  is  dis- 
covered, and  the  meat  be  indeed  meat,  he  seizes  it  and 
makes  off. 

One  midwinter  I  cleared  away  the  snow  under  an 
apple-tree  near  the  house  and  scattered  some  corn 
there.  I  had  not  seen  a  blue-jay  for  weeks,  yet  that 
very  day  oue  found  my  corn,  and  after  that  several 
came  daily  and  partook  of  it,  holding  the  kernels 
under  their  feet  upon  the  limbs  of  the  trees  and  peck- 
ing them  vigorously. 

Of  course  the  woodpecker  and  his  kind  have  sharp 
eyes ;  still  I  was  surprised  to  see  how  quickly  Downy 
found  out  some  bones  that  were  placed  in  a  convenient 
place  under  the  shed  to  be  pounded  up  for  the  hens. 
In  going  out  to  the  barn  I  often  disturbed  him  making 
a  meal  off  the  bite  of  meat  that  still  adhered  to  them. 

"  Look  intently  enough  at  anything,"  said  a  poet  to 
me  one  day,  "  and  yoTi  will  see  something  that  would 
otherwise  escape  you."  I  thought  of  the  remark  as  I 
sat  on  a  stump  in  an  opening  of  the  woods  one  spring 
day.  I  saw  a  small  hawk  approaching ;  he  flew  to  a 
tall  tulip-tree  and  alighted  on  a  large  limb  near  the 
top.  He  eyed  me  and  I  eyed  him.  Then  the  bird 
disclosed  a  traii  that  was  new  to  me :  he  hopped  along 
the  limb  to  a.  small  cavity  near  the  trunk,  when  he 
thrust  in  his  head  and  pulled  out  some  small  object 
and  fell  to  eating  it.  After  he  had  partaken  of  it  for 
some  minutes  he  put  the  remainder  back  in  his  larder 


SHARP   EYES.  2.fi 

and  flew  away.  I  had  seen  something  like  feathers 
eddying  slowly  down  as  the  hawk  ate,  and  on  ap- 
proaching the  spot  found  the  feathers  of  a  sparrow 
here  and  there  clinging  to  the  bushes  beneath  tin- 
tree.  The  hawk  then  —  commonly  called  the  chicki  n 
hawk  —  is  as  provident  as  a  mouse  or  a  squirrel,  and 
lays  by  a  store  against  a  time  of  need,  but  I  should 
not  have  discovered  the  fact  had  I  not  held  my  eye 
on  him. 

An  observer  of  the  birds  is  attracted  by  any  unusual 
sound  or  commotion  among  them.  In  May  or  June, 
when  other  birds  are  most  vocal,  the  jay  is  a  silent 
bird;  he  goes  sneaking  about  the  orchards  and  the 
groves  as  silent  as  a  pickpocket ;  he  is  robbing  bird's- 
nests  and  he  is  very  anxious  that  nothing  should  be 
said  about  it ;  but  in  the  fall  none  so  quick  and  loud  to 
cry  "  Thief,  thief !  "  as  he.  One  December  morning  a 
troop  of  jays  discovered  a  little  screech-owl  secreted 
in  the  hollow  trunk  of  an  old  apple-tree  near  my 
house.  How  they  found  the  owl  out  is  a  mystery,  since 
it  never  ventures  forth  in  the  light  of  day;  but  they 
did,  and  proclaimed  the  fact  with  great  emphasis.  I 
suspect  the  bluebirds  first  told  them,  for  these  birds  are 
constantly  peeping  into  holes  and  crannies,  both  spring 
and  fall.  Some  unsuspecting  bird  had  probably  en- 
tered the  cavity  prospecting  for  a  place  for  next  year's 
nest,  or  else  looking  out  a  likely  place  to  pass  a 
cold  night,  and  then  had  rushed  out  with  important 
news.  A  boy  who  should  unwittingly  venture  into  a 
bear's  den  when  Bruin  was  at  home  could  not  be  more 
astonished  and  alarmed  than  a  bluebird  would  be  on 
finding  itself  in  the  cavity  of  a  decayed  tree  with  an 
owl.  At  any  rate  the  bluebirds  joined  the  jays  in 
calling  the  attention  of  all  whom  it  might  concern  to 


24  SHARP  EYES. 

the  fact  that  a  culprit  of  some  sort  was  hiding  from 
the  light  of  day  in  the  old  apple-tree.  I  heard  the 
notes  of  warning  and  alarm  and  approached  to  within 
eye-shot.  The  bluebirds  were  cautious  and  hovered 
about  uttering  their  peculiar  twittering  calls ;  but  the 
jays  were  bolder  and  took  turns  looking  in  at  the 
cavity,  and  deriding  the  poor,  shrinking  owl.  A  jay 
would  alight  in  the  entrance  of  the  hole  and  flirt 
and  peer  and  attitudinize,  and  then  fly  away  crying 
^  Thief,  thief,  thief !  "  at  the  top  of  his  voice. 

I  climbed  up  and  peered  into  the  opening,  and 
could  just  descry  the  owl  clinging  to  the  inside  of  the 
tree.  I  reached  in  and  took  him  out,  giving  little 
heed  to  the  threatening  snapping  of  his  beak.  He 
was  as  red  as  a  fox  and  as  yellow-eyed  as  a  cat.  He 
made  no  effort  to  escape,  but  planted  his  claws  in  my 
forefinger  and  clung  there  with  a  grip  that  soon  grew 
uncomfortable.  I  placed  him  in  the  loft  of  an  out- 
house in  hopes  of  getting  better  acquainted  with  him. 
By  day  he  was  a  very  willing  prisoner,  scarcely  mov- 
ing at  all,  even  when  approached  and  touched  with 
the  hand,  but  looking  out  upon  the  world  with  half- 
closed,  sleepy  eyes.  But  at  night  what  a  change  ;  how 
alert,  how  wild,  how  active!  He  was  like  another 
bird  ;  he  darted  about  with  wide,  fearful  eyes,  and  re- 
garded me  like  a  cornered  cat.  I  opened  the  window, 
and  swiftly,  but  as  silent  as  a  shadow,  he  glided  out 
into  the  congenial  darkness,  and  perhaps,  ere  this,  has 
revenged  himself  upon  the  sleeping  jay  or  bluebird 
febat  first  betrayed  his  hiding-place. 


THE  APPLE. 

Ijo!  sweetened  with  the  summer  light, 
The  full-juiced  apple,  waxing  o\er-inellow, 
Drops  in  a  silent  autumn  night. —  Tennyson. 

'Not  a  little  of  the  sunshine  of  our  northern  win* 
ters  is  surely  wrapped  up  in  the  apple.  How  could 
we  winter  over  without  it !  How  is  life  sweetened  by 
its  mild  acids!  A  cellar  well  filled  with  apples  is 
more  valuable  than  a  chamber  filled  with  flax  and 
wool.  So  much  sound  ruddy  life  to  draw  upon,  to 
strike  one's  roots  down  into,  as  it  were. 

Especially  to  those  whose  soil  of  life  is  inclined  to 
be  a  little  clayey  and  heavy,  is  the  apple  a  winter 
necessity.  It  is  the  natural  antidote  of  most  of  the 
ills  the  flesh  is  heir  to.  Full  of  vegetable  acids  and 
aromatics,  qualities  which  act  as  refrigerants  and  an- 
tiseptics, what  an  enemy  it  is  to  jaundice,  indigestion 
torpidity  of  liver,  etc.  It  is  a  gentle  spur  and  tonic 
to  the  whole  biliary  system.  Then  I  have  read  that 
it  has  been  found  by  analysis  to  contain  more  ph<w 
phorus  than  any  other  vegetable.  This  makes  it  the 
proper  food  of  the  scholar  and  the  sedentary  man ;  it 
feeds  his  brain  and  it  stimulates  his  liver.  Nor  is 
this  all.  Besides  its  hygienic  properties,  the  apple 
is  fall  of  susrar  and  mucilage,  which  make  it  highh 
nutritious.  It  is  said,  "The  operators  of  Cornwall, 
England,  consider  ripe  apples  nearly  as  nourishing  as 
bread,  and  far  more  so  than  potatoes.  In  the  year 
1801  —  which  was  a  year  of  much  scarcity  —  apples, 


26  THE  APPLE. 

instead  of  being  converted  into  cider,  were  sold  to  the 
poor,  and  the  laborers  asserted  that  they  could  '  stand 
their  work '  on  baked  apples  without  meat ;  whereas 
a  potato  diet  required  either  meat  or  some  other  sub- 
stantial nutriment.  The  French  and  Germans  use 
apples  extensively,  so  do  the  inhabitants  of  all  Euro- 
pean nations.  The  laborers  depend  upon  them  as  an 
article  of  food,  and  frequently  make  a  dinner  of  sliced 
apples  and  bread. " 

Yet  the  English  apple  is  a  tame  and  insipid  affair, 
compared  with  the  intense,  sun-colored  and  sun- 
steeped  fruit  our  orchards  yield.  The  English  have 
no  sweet  apple,  I  am  told,  the  saccharine  element 
apparently  being  less  abundant  in  vegetable  nature 
in  that  sour  and  chilly  climate  than  in  our  own.  It  is 
well  known  that  the  European  maple  yields  no  sugar, 
while  both  our  birch  and  hickory  have  sweet  in  their 
veins.  Perhaps  this  fact  accounts  for  our  excessive 
love  of  sweets,  which  may  be  said  to  be  a  national 
trait. 

The  Russian  apple  has  a  lovely  complexion,  smooth 
and  transparent,  but  the  Cossack  is  not  yet  all  elimi* 
nated  from  it.  The  only  one  I  have  seen  —  the 
Duchess  of  Oldenburg  —  is  as  beautiful  as  a  Tartar 
princess,  with  a  distracting  odor,  but  it  is  the  least 
bit  puckery  to  the  taste. 

The  best  thing  I  know  about  Chili  is  not  its  guano 
'beds,  but  this  fact  which  I  learn  from  Darwin's  "  \  oy 
age,"  namely,  that  the  apple  thrives  well  there.  Dar- 
win saw  a  town  there  so  completely  buried  in  a  wood 
of  apple-trees,  that  its  streets  were  merely  paths  in  an 
orchard.  The  tree  indeed  thrives  so  well,  that  large 
branches  cut  off  in  the  spring  and  planted  two  oi 
three  feet  deep  in  the  ground  send   out  roots  and 


THE  APPLE.  27 

develop  into  fine  full-bearing  trees  by  the  third  year. 
The  people  know  the  value  of  the  apple  too.  They 
make  cider  and  wine  of  it  and  then  from  the  refuse  a 
white  and  finely  flavored  spirit;  then  by  another  | 
cess  a  sweet  treacle  is  obtained  called  honey.  The 
children  and  the  pigs  eat  little  or  no  other  food.  He 
does  not  add  that  the  people  are  healthy  and  temper- 
ate, but  I  have  no  doubt  they  are.  We  knew  tin- 
apple  had  many  virtues,  but  these  Chilians  have  really 
opened  a  deep  beneath  a  deep.  We  had  found  out 
the  cider  and  the  spirits,  but  who  guessed  the  wine 
and  the  honey,  unless  it  were  the  bees  ?  There  is  a 
variety  in  our  orchards  called  the  winesap,  a  doubly 
liquid  name  that  suggests  what  might  be  done  with 
this  fruit. 

The  apple  is  the  commonest  and  yet  the  most  varied 
and  beautiful  of  fruits.  A  dish  of  them  is  as  becom- 
ing to  the  centre-table  in  winter  as  was  the  vase  of 
flowers  in  the  summer, — a  bouquet  of  spitzenber^s 
and  greenings  and  northern  spies.  A  rose  when  it 
blooms,  the  apple  is  a  rose  when  it  ripens.  It  pleases 
every  sense  to  which  it  can  be  addressed,  the  touch, 
the  smell,  the  sight,  the  taste ;  and  when  it  falls  in  the 
still  October  days  it  pleases  the  ear.  It  is  a  call  to  a 
banquet,  it  is  a  signal  that  the  feast  is  ready.  The 
bough  would  fain  hold  it,  but  it  can  now  assert  its  in- 
dependence ;  it  can  now  live  a  life  of  its  own. 

Daily  the  stem  relaxes  its  hold,  till  finally  it  lets  go 
completely,  and  down  comes  the  painted  sphere  with  a 
mellow  thump  to  the  earth,  towards  which  it  has  been 
nodding  so  long.  It  bounds  away  to  seek  its  lied,  to 
hide  under  a  leaf,  or  in  a  tuft  of  grass.  It  will  now 
take  time  to  meditate  and  ripen!  What  delicious 
thoughts  it  has  there  nestled  with  its  fellows   under 


28  THE   APPLE. 

the  fence,  turning  acid    into   sugar,  and  sugar  into 
wine ! 

How  pleasing  to  the  touch  !  I  love  to  stroke  its 
polished  rondure  with  my  hand,  to  carry  it  in  my 
pocket  on  my  tramp  over  the  winter  hills,  or  through 
the  early  spring  woods.  You  are  company,  you  red- 
eheeked  spitz,  or  you  salmon-fleshed  greening  !  I  toy 
with  you ;  press  your  face  to  mine,  toss  you  in  the  airs 
roll  you  on  the  ground,  see  you  shine  out  where  you 
lie  amid  the  moss  and  dry  leaves  and  sticks.  You  are 
so  alive!  You  glow  like  a  ruddy  flower.  You  look 
so  animated  I  almost  expect  to  see  you  move.  I 
postpone  the  eating  of  you,  you  are  so  beautiful! 
How  compact ;  how  exquisitely  tinted !  Stained  by 
the  sun  and  varnished  against  the  rains.  An  inde- 
pendent vegetable  existence,  alive  and  vascular  as  my 
own  flesh ;  capable  of  being  wounded,  bleeding,  wast- 
ing away,  and  almost  of  repairing  damages! 

How  it  resists  the  cold  !  holding  out  almost  as  long 
as  the  red  cheeks  of  the  boys  do.  A  frost  that  de- 
stroys the  potatoes  and  other  roots  only  makes  the 
apple  more  crisp  and  vigorous ;  it  peeps  out  from 
the  chance  November  snows  unscathed.  When  1  see 
the  fruit-vender  on  the  street  corner  stamping  his  feet 
and  beating  his  hands  to  keep  them  warm,  and  his 
naked  apples  lying  exposed  to  the  blasts,  I  wouder  if 
they  do  not  ache  too  to  clap  their  hands  and  enliven 
their  circulation.  But  they  can  stand  it  nearly  as  long 
as  the  vender  can. 

Noble  common  fruit,  best  friend  of  man  and  most 
loved  by  him,  following  him  like  his  dog  or  his  cow, 
wherever  he  goes.  His  homestead  is  not  planted  till 
you  are  planted,  your  roots  intertwine  with  his  ;  thriv- 
ing best  where  he  thrives  best,  loving  the  limestone 


THE    APPLE.  29 

and  the  frost,  the  plow  and  the  priming-knife,  you 

are  indeed  suggestive  of  hardy,  cheerful  industry,  and 
a  healthy  life  in  the  open  air.  Temperate,  chaste 
fruit!  you  mean  neither  luxury  nor  sloth,  neither 
satiety  nor  indolence,  neither  enervating-  heats  noi  the 
Frigid  Zones.  Uncloying  fruit,  fruit  whose  hest  sauce 
is  the  open  air,  whose  finest  flavors  only  he  whose 
taste  is  sharpened  by  brisk  work  or  walking  knows : 
winter  fruit,  when  the  fire  of  life  burns  brightest; 
fruit  always  a  little  hyperborean,  leaning  towards  the 
cold ;  bracing,  sub-acid,  active  fruit.  I  think  you 
must  come  from  the  north,  you  are  so  frank  and  hon- 
est, so  sturdy  and  appetizing.  You  are  stocky  and 
homely  like  the  northern  races.  Your  quality  is 
Saxon.  Surely  the  fiery  and  impetuous  south  is  not 
akin  to  you.  Not  spices  or  olives  or  the  sumptuous 
liquid  fruits,  but  the  grass,  the  snow,  the  grains,  the 
coolness  is  akin  to  you.  I  think  if  I  could  subsist  on 
you  or  the  like  of  you,  I  should  never  have  an  intem- 
perate or  ignoble  thought,  never  be  feverish  or  de- 
spondent. So  far  as  I  could  absorb  or  transmute 
your  quality  I  should  be  cheerful,  continent,  equitable, 
sweet-blooded,  long-lived,  and  should  shed  warmth 
and  contentment  around. 

Is  there  any  other  fruit  that  has  so  much  facial  ex- 
pression as  the  apple?  What  boy  does  not  more  than 
half  believe  they  can  see  with  that  single  eye  of 
theirs  ?  Do  they  not  look  and  nod  to  him  from  tlu 
bough?  The  swaar  has  one  look,  the  ram  bo  another, 
the  spy  another.  The  youth  recognizes  the  seek-no* 
further  buried  beneath  a  dozen  other  varieties,  the 
moment  he  catches  a  glance  of  its  eye,  or  the  bonny- 
cheeked  Newtown  pippin,  or  the  gentle  but  sharp-no 
gilliflower.      He  goes  to  the  great  bin  in  the  cellar 


30  THE  APPLE. 

and  sinks  his  shafts  here  and  there  in  the  garnered 
wealth  of  the  orchards,  mining  for  his  favorites,  some* 
times  coming  plump  upon  them,  sometimes  catching  a 
glimpse  of  them  to  the  right  or  left,  or  uncovering 
them  as  keystones  in  an  arch  made  up  of  many  varie- 

'des. 

In  the  dark  he  can  usually  tell  them  by  the  sense 
of  touch.  There  is  not  only  the  size  and  shape,  but 
there  is  the  texture  and  polish.  Some  apples  are  coarse- 
grained  and  some  are  fine ;  some  are  thin-skinned  and 
some  are  thick.  One  variety  is  quick  and  vigorous 
beneath  the  touch  ;  another  gentle  and  yielding.  The 
pinnock  has  a  thick  skin  with  a  spongy  lining,  a  bruise 
in  it  becomes  like  a  piece  of  cork.  The  tallow  apple 
has  an  unctuous  feel,  as  its  name  suggests.  It  sheds 
water  like  a  duck.  What  apple  is  that  with  a  fat 
curved  stem  that  blends  so  prettily  with  its  own  flesh. 
—  the  wine  -  apple  ?  Some  varieties  impress  me  as 
masculine,  —  weather-stained,  freckled,  lasting  and 
rugged ;  others  are  indeed  lady  apples,  fair,  delicate, 
shining,  mild-flavored,  white-meated,  like  the  egg-drop 
and  the  lady-finger.  The  practiced  hand  knows  each 
kind  by  the  touch. 

Do  you  remember  the  apple  hole  in  the  garden  or 
back  of  the  house,  Ben  Bolt  ?  In  the  fall  after  the 
bins  in  the  cellar  had  been  well  stocked,  we  excavated 
a  circular  pit  in  the  warm,  mellow  earth,  and  covering 
the  bottom  with  clean  rye  straw,  emptied  in  basketful 

ifter  basketful  of  hardy  choice  varieties,  till  there  was 
a  tent -shaped  mound   several   feet  high  of    shining 

/ar legated  fruit.  Then  wrapping  it  about  with  a  thick 
layer  of  long  rye  straw,  and  tucking  it  up  snug  and 
warm,  the  mound  was  covered  with  a  thin  coating  o| 
earth,  a  flat  stone  on  the  top  holding  down  the  straw 


THE  APPLE.  3l 

As  winter  set  in,  another  coating  of  earth  was  pot 
upon  it,  with  perhaps  an  overcoat  of  course  dry  Btable 
manure,  and  the  precious  pile  was  left  in  silence  and 
darkness  till  spring.     No  marmot  hibernating  undei 

ground  in  his  nest  of  leaves  and  dry  grass,  more  cosy 
and  warm.  No  frost,  no  wet,  but  fragrant  privacy 
and  quiet.  Then  how  the  earth  tempera  and  flavors 
the  apples  !  It  draws  out  all  the  acrid  unripe  quali- 
ties, and  infuses  into  them  a  subtle  refreshing  taste 
of  the  soil.  Some  varieties  perish;  but  the  ranker, 
hardier  kinds,  like  the  northern  spy,  the  greening,  or 
the  black  apple,  or  the  russet,  or  the  pinnock,  how 
they  ripen  and  grow  in  grace,  how  the  green  becomes 
gold,  and  the  bitter  becomes  sweet ! 

As  the  supply  in  the  bins  and  barrels  gets  low  and 
spring  approaches,  the  buried  treasures  in  the  garden 
are  remembered.  With  spade  and  axe  we  go  out  and 
penetrate  through  the  snow  and  frozen  earth  till  the 
inner  dressing  of  straw  is  laid  bare.  It  is  not  quite 
as  clear  and  bright  as  when  we  placed  it  there  last 
fall,  but  the  fruit  beneath,  which  the  hand  soon  ex- 
poses, is  just  as  bright  and  far  more  luscious.  Then, 
as  day  after  day  you  resort  to  the  hole,  and,  removing 
the  straw  and  earth  from  the  opening,  thrust  your 
arm  into  the  fragrant  pit,  you  have  a  better  chance 
than  ever  before  to  become  acquainted  witli  your 
favorites  by  the  sense  of  touch.  ITow  you  fed  for 
them,  reaching  to  the  right  and  left!  Now  you  have 
got  a  Tolman  sweet;  you  imagine  you  can  feel  that 
single  meridian  line  that  divides  it  into  two  hemi- 
spheres. Now  a  greening  fills  your  hand,  you  feel  its 
fine  quality  beneath  its  rough  coat.  Now  you  have 
hooked  a  swaar,  you  recognize  its  full  faee  :  now  a 
Vandevere  or  a  King  rolls  down  from  the  apex  above, 


82  THE  APPLE. 

and  you  bag  it  at  once.  When  you  were  a  school 
boy  you  stowed  these  away  in  your  pockets  and  ate 
them  along  the  road  and  at  recess,  and  again  at  noon- 
time ;  and  they,  in  a  measure,  corrected  the  effects 
of  the  cake  and  pie  with  which  your  indulgent  mother 
filled  your  lunch-basket. 

The  boy  is  indeed  the  true  apple-eater,  and  is  no' 
to  be  questioned  how  he  came  by  the  fruit  with  which 
his  pockets  are  filled.  It  belongs  to  him  .  .  •  His 
own  juicy  flesh  craves  the  juicy  flesh  of  the  apple 
Sap  draws  sap.  His  fruit-eating  has  little  reference 
to  the  state  of  his  appetite.  Whether  he  be  full  of 
meat  or  empty  of  meat  he  wants  the  apple  just  the 
same.  Before  meal  or  after  meal  it  never  comes 
amiss.  The  farm-boy  munches  apples  all  day  longc 
He  has  nests  of  them  in  the  ha}'  -  mow,  mellowing, 
to  which  he  makes  frequent  visits.  Sometimes  old 
Brindle,  having  access  through  the  open  door,  smells 
them  out  and  makes  short  work  of  them. 

In  some  countries  the  custom  remains  of  placing  a 
rosy  apple  in  the  hand  of  the  dead  that  they  may  find 
it  when  they  enter  paradise.  In  northern  mythology 
the  giants  eat  apples  to  keep  off  old  age. 

The  apple  is  indeed  the  fruit  of  youth.  As  we 
grow  old  we  crave  apples  less.  It  is  an  ominous  sign< 
When  you  are  ashamed  to  be  seen  eating  them  on  the 
street ;  when  you  can  carry  them  in  your  pocket  and 
your  hand  not  constantly  find  its  way  to  them  ;  when 
your  neighbor  has  apples  and  you  have  none,  and  yots 
make  no  nocturnal  visits  to  his  orchard ;  when  youi 
lunch-basket  is  without  them,  and  you  can  pass  a 
winter's  night  by  the  fireside  with  no  thought  of  the 
fruit  at  your  elbow,  then  be  assured  you  are  no  longei 
a  boy,  either  in  heart  or  year*. 


THE  APPLE. 

The  genuine  apple-eater  comforts  himself  with  an 
apple  in  their  season  as  others  with  a  pipe  or  cm 
When  he  has  nothing  else  to  do,  or  is  bored,  he  eats 
an  apple.  While  he  is  waiting  for  the  train  he  i 
an  apple,  sometimes  several  of  them.  When  he  tab 
%  walk  he  arms  himself  with  apples,  His  traveling 
bag  is  full  of  apples.  He  offers  an  apple  to  his  com- 
panion, and  takes  one  himself.  They  are  his  chief 
solace  when  on  the  road.  He  sows  their  seed  all  alon^ 
the  route.  He  tosses  the  core  from  the  car-window 
and  from  the  top  of  the  stage-coach.  He  would,  in 
time,  make  the  land  one  vast  orchard.  He  dispenses 
with  a  knife.  He  prefers  that  his  teeth  shall  have  the 
first  taste.  Then  he  knows  the  best  flavor  is  imme- 
diately beneath  the  skin,  and  that  in  a  pared  apple 
this  is  lost.  If  you  will  stew  the  apple,  he  says,  in- 
stead of  baking  it,  by  all  means  leave  the  skin  on.  It 
improves  the  color  and  vastly  heightens  the  flavor  of 
the  dish. 

The  apple  is  a  masculine  fruit ;  hence  women  are 
poor  apple-eaters.  It  belongs  to  the  open  air,  and 
requires  an  open-air  taste  and  relish. 

I  instantly  sympathized  with  that  clergyman  I  read 
of,  who  on  pulling  out  his  pocket-handkerchief  in  the 
midst  of  his  discourse,  pulled  out  two  bouncing  apples 
with  it  that  went  rolling  across  the  pulpit  floor  anc! 
down  the  pulpit  stairs.  These  apples  were,  no  doubt, 
to  be  eaten  after  the  sermon  on  his  way  home,  or  to 
his  next  appointment.  They  would  take  the  tasfc 
it  out  of  his  mouth.  Then,  would  a  minister  be  apt 
to  grow  tiresome  with  two  big  apples  in  his  coat-tail 
pockets?  Would  he  not  naturally  hasten  along  to 
44  lastly,"  and  the  big  apples  ?  If  they  were  tin-  dom- 
inie apples,  and  it  was  April  or  May,  he  certainly 
would. 


34  THE  APPLE. 

How  the  early  settlers  prized  the  apple!  When 
their  trees  broke  down  or  were  split  asunder  by  the 
storms,  the  neighbors  turned  out,  the  divided  tree  was 
put  together  again  and  fastened  with  iron  bolts.  In 
some  of  the  oldest  orchards  one  may  still  occasionally 
see  a  large  dilapidated  tree  with  the  rusty  iron  bolt 
yet  visible.  Poor,  sour  fruit,  too,  but  sw^et  in  those 
early  pioneer  days.  My  grandfather,  who  was  one  of 
these  heroes  of  the  stump,  used  every  fall  to  make  a 
journey  of  forty  miles  for  a  few  apples,  which  he 
brought  home  in  a  bag  on  horseback.  He  frequently 
started  from  home  by  two  or  three  o'clock  in  tho 
morning,  and  at  one  time  both  he  and  his  horse  were 
much  frightened  by  the  screaming  of  panthers  in  a 
narrow  pass  in  the  mountains  through  which  the  road 
led. 

Emerson,  I  believe,  has  spoken  of  the  apple  as  the 
social  fruit  of  New  England.  Indeed,  what  a  pro- 
moter or  abettor  of  social  intercourse  anions'  our  rural 
population  the  apple  has  been,  the  company  growing 
more  merry  and  unrestrained  as  soon  as  the  basket  cf 
apples  was  passed  round !  When  the  cider  followed, 
the  introduction  and  good  understanding  were  com- 
plete. Then  those  rural  gatherings  that  enlivenec1 
the  autumn  in  the  country,  known  as  "apple  cuts,' 
now,  alas  !  nearly  obsolete,  where  so  many  things  were 
cut  and  dried  besides  apples !  The  larger  and  more 
loaded  the  orchard,  the  more  frequently  the  invite 
tions  went  round  and  the  higher  the  social  and  col 
vivial  spirit  ran.  Ours  is  eminently  a  country  of  the 
orchard.  Horace  Greeley  said  he  had  seen  no  land  in 
which  the  orchard  formed  such  a  prominent  feature 
in  the  rural  and  agricultural  districts.  Nearly  every 
farmhouse  in  the  Eastern  and  Northern  States  has  its 


THE  APPLE.  35 

setting  or  its  background  of  apple-trees,  which  gener- 
ally date  back  to  the  first  settlement  of  the  farm. 
Indeed,  the  orchard,  more  than  almost  any  other 
thing,  tends  to  soften  and  humanize  the  country,  and 
to  give  the  place  of  which  it  is  an  adjunct,  a  settled, 
domestic  look.  The  apple-tree  takes  the  rawness  and 
wildness  off  any  scene.  On  the  top  of  a  mountain,  or 
in  remote  pastures,  it  sheds  the  sentiment  of  home. 
It  never  loses  its  domestic  air,  or  lapses  into  a  wild 
state.  And  in  planting  a  homestead,  or  in  choosing 
a  building  site  for  the  new  house,  what  a  help  it  is  to 
have  a  few  old,  maternal  apple-trees  near  by ;  regular 
°0d  grandmothers,  who  have  seen  trouble,  who  have 
been  sad  and  glad  through  so  many  winters  and  sum- 
mers, who  have  blossomed  till  the  air  about  them  is 
sweeter  than  elsewhere,  and  borne  fruit  till  the  srrass 
beneath  them  has  become  thick  and  soft  from  human 
contact,  and  who  have  nourished  robins  and  finches  in 
their  branches  till  they  have  a  tender,  brooding  look. 
The  ground,  the  turf,  the  atmosphere  of  an  old 
orchard,  seem  several  stages  nearer  to  man  than  that 
of  the  adjoining  field,  as  if  the  trees  had  given  bark 
to  the  soil  more  than  they  had  taken  from  it ;  as  if 
they  had  tempered  the  elements  and  attracted  all  the 
genial  and  beneficent  influences  in  the  landscape 
around. 

An  apple  orchard  is  sure  to  bear  you  several  crop 
beside  the  apple.  There  is  the  crop  of  sweet  and  ten 
der  reminiscences  dating  from  childhood  and  spanning 
the  seasons  from  May  to  October,  and  making  the 
orchard  a  sort  of  outlying  part  of  the  household.  ^  <>i 
have  played  there  as  a  child,  mused  there  as  a  youth 
or  lover,  strolled  there  as  a  thoughtful,  sad-eyed  man. 
Your  father,  perhaps,  planted  the  trees,  or  reared  them 


36  THE  APPLE. 

from  the  seed,  and  you  yourself  have  pruned  and 
grafted  them,  and  worked  among  them,  till  every 
separate  tree  has  a  peculiar  history  and  meaning  in 
your  mind.  Then  there  is  the  never-failing  crop  of 
birds  —  robins,  goldfinches,  king-birds,  cedar-birds, 
bair-birds,  orioles,  starlings  —  all  nesting  and  breed- 
ing in  its  branches,  and  fitly  described  by  Wilson 
Flagg  as  "Birds  of  the  Garden  and  Orchard." 
Whether  the  pippin  and  svveetbough  bear  or  not,  the 
"  punctual  birds  "  can  always  be  depended  on.  In- 
deed, there  are  few  better  places  to  study  ornithology 
than  in  the  orchard.  Besides  its  regular  occupants, 
many  of  the  birds  of  the  deeper  forest  find  occasion  to 
visit  it  during  the  season.  The  cuckoo  comes  for  the 
tent-caterpillar,  the  jay  for  frozen  apples,  the  ruffed 
grouse  for  buds,  the  crow  foraging  for  birds'  eggs,  the 
woodpecker  and  chickadees  for  their  food,  and  the 
high-hole  for  ants.  The  red-bird  comes  too,  it  only 
to  see  what  a  friendly  covert  its  branches  form ;  and 
the  wood-thrush  now  and  then  comes  out  of  the  grove 
near  by,  and  nests  alongside  of  its  cousin,  the  robin. 
The  smaller  hawks  know  that  this  is  a  most  likely 
spot  for  their  prey;  and  in  spring  the  shy  northern 
warblers  may  be  studied  as  they  pause  to  feed  on  the 
fine  insects  amid  its  branches.  The  mice  love  to 
dwell  here  also,  and  hither  comes  from  the  near  woods 
the  squirrel  and  the  rabbit.  The  latter  will  put  his 
head  through  the  boy's  slipper-noose  any  time  for  a 
taste  of  the  sweet  apple,  and  the  red  squirrel  and  chip- 
munk esteem  its  seeds  a  great  rarity. 

All  the  domestic  animals  love  the  apple,  but  none 
so  much  so  as  the  cow.  The  taste  of  it  wakes  her  up 
as  few  other  things  do,  and  bars  and  fences  must  be 
well  looked  after.     No  need  to  assort  them  or  pick 


THE   APPLE.  37 

out  the  ripe  ones  for  her.  An  apple  is  an  apple,  and 
there  is  no  best  about  it.  I  heard  of  a  quick-witted 
old  cow  that  learned  to  shake  them  down  from  the 
tree.  While  rubbing  herself  she  had  observed  that 
an  apple  sometimes  fell.  This  stimulated  her  to  rub 
a  little  harder,  when  more  apples  fell.  She  then  I 
the  hint  and  rubbed  her  shoulder  with  sueh  vigor  that 
the  farmer  had  to  check  her  and  keep  an  eye  on  hei 
to  save  his  fruit. 

But  the  cow  is  the  friend  of  the  apple.  How  many 
trees  she  has  planted  about  the  farm,  in  the  edge  of 
the  woods,  and  in  remote  fields  and  pastures.  The 
wild  apples,  celebrated  by  Thoreau,  are  mostly  of  her 
planting.  She  browses  them  down  to  be  sure,  but  they 
are  hers,  and  why  should  she  not  ? 

What  an  individuality  the  apple-tree  has,  each  va- 
riety being  nearly  as  marked  by  its  form  as  by  its 
fruit.  What  a  vigorous  grower,  for  instance,  is  the 
Ribston  pippin,  an  English  apple.  Wide  branching 
like  the  oak,  and  its  large  ridgy  fruit,  in  late  fall  or 
early  winter,  is  one  of  my  favorites.  Or  the  thick  and 
more  pendent  top  of  the  belleflower,  with  its  equally 
rich,  sprightly  uncloying  fruit. 

Sweet  apples  are  perhaps  the  most  nutritious,  and 
when  baked  are  a  feast  in  themselves.  With  a  tn  8 
of  the  Jersey  sweet  or  of  Tolman's  sweeting  in  bear- 
ins:,  no  man's  table  need  be  devoid  of  luxuries  and 
one  of  the  most  wholesome  of  all  deserts.  Or  the 
red  astrachan,  an  August  apple,  what  a  gap  may  be 
filled  in  the  culinary  department  of  a  household  at 
this  season,  by  a  single  tree  of  this  fruit!  And  what 
a  feast  is  its  shining  crimson  coat  to  the  eye  befon  its 
snow-white  flesh  has  reached  the  tongue.  But  the 
apple  of  apples  for  the  household  is  the  spitzenberg. 


88  THE   APPLE. 

in  this  casket  Pomona  has  put  her  highest  flavors.  It 
Ban  stand  the  ordeal  of  cooking  and  still  remain  a 
spitz.  I  recently  saw  a  barrel  of  these  apples  from 
the  orchard  of  a  fruit-grower  in  the  northern  part  of 
lNew  York,  who  has  devoted  especial  attention  to  this 
variety.  They  were  perfect  gems.  Not  large,  that 
.liad  not  been  the  aim,  but  small,  fair,  uniform,  and 
ted  to  the  core.   How  intense,  how  spicy  and  aromatic ! 

But  all  the  excellences  of  the  apple  are  not  con- 
fined to  the  cultivated  fruit.  Occasionally  a  seedling 
springs  up  about  the  farm  that  produces  fruit  of  rare 
beauty  and  worth.  In  sections  peculiarly  adapted  tc 
the  apple,  like  a  certain  belt  along  the  Hudson  River, 
I  have  noticed  that  most  of  the  wild  unbidden  trees 
bear  good,  edible  fruit.  In  cold  and  ungenial  districts, 
the  seedlings  are  mostly  sour  and  crabbed,  but  in 
more  favorable  soils  they  are  oftener  mild  and  sweet. 
I  know  wild  apples  that  ripen  in  August,  and  that  do 
not  need,  if  it  could  be  had,  Thoreau's  sauce  of  sharp 
November  air  to  be  eaten  with.  At  the  foot  of  a  hill 
near  me  and  striking  its  roots  deep  in  the  shale,  is  a 
giant  specimen  of  native  tree  that  bears  an  apple  that 
has  about  the  clearest,  waxiest,  most  transparent  com- 
plexion I  ever  saw.  It  is  good  size,  and  the  color  of 
a  tea-rose.  Its  quality  is  best  appreciated  in  the 
kitchen.  1  know  another  seedling  of  excellent  quality; 
Mid  so  remarkable  for  its  firmness  and  density,  that, 
it  is  known  on  the  farm  where  it  grows  as  the  "heavy4, 
apple." 

I  have  alluded  to  Thoreau,  to  whom  all  lovers  of 
the  apple  and  its  tree  are  under  obligation.  His 
chapter  on  Wild  Apples  is  a  most  delicious  piece  of 
writing.  It  has  a  "  tang  and  smack  "  like  the  fruit  it 
celebrates,  and  is  dashed  and  streaked  with  color  in 


THE  APPLE.  39 

the  same  manner.     It  has  the  hue  and  perfume  of  the 
crab,  and  the  richness  and  raciness  of  the  pippin,    i 
Thoreau  loved  other  apples  than  the  wild  Borta  and 

was  obliged  to  confess  that  his  favorites  could  not  be 
eaten  in-doors.  Late  in  November  he  found  a  l>iue- 
pearmain  tree  growing  within  the  edge  of  a  sua; 
almost  as  good  as  wild.  "You  would  not  suppose,1* 
he  says,  "  that  there  was  any  fruit  left  there  on  the 
iirst  survey,  but  you  must  look  according  to  Bystem, 
Those  which  lie  exposed  are  quite  brown  and  rotten 
now,  or  perchance  a  few  still  show  one  blooming  cheek 
here  and  there  amid  the  wet  leaves.  NevertheL 
with  experienced  eyes  I  explore  amid  the  bare  alders, 
and  the  huckleberry  bushes,  and  the  withered  Bed 
and  in  the  crevices  of  the  rocks,  which  are  full  of 
leaves,  and  pry  under  the  fallen  and  decayed  ferns 
which,  with  apple  and  alder  leaves,  thickly  strew  the 
ground.  For  I  know  that  they  lie  concealed,  fallen 
into  hollows  long  since,  and  covered  up  by  the  leaves 
of  the  tree  itself  —  a  proper  kind  of  packing.  From 
these  lurking  places,  everywhere  within  the  circum- 
ference of  the  tree,  I  draw  forth  the  fruit  all  wet  and 
glossy,  maybe  nibbled  by  rabbits  and  hollowed  out 
by  crickets,  and  perhaps  a  leaf  or  two  cemented  t<>  it 
(as  Curzon  an  old  manuscript  from  a  monastery's 
mouldy  cellar),  but  still  with  a  rich  bloom  on  it,  and 
at  least  as  ripe  and  wrell  kept,  if  no  better  than  those 
in  barrels,  more  crisp  and  lively  than  they.  If  these 
resources  fail  to  yield  anything,  I  have  learned  to  look 
between  the  leaves  of  the  suckers  which  spring  thickly 
from  some  horizontal  limb,  for  now  and  then  one 
lodges  there,  or  in  the  very  midst  of  an  alder-clump, 
where  they  are  covered  by  leaves,  safe  from  cows  which 
day  have  smelled  them  out.     If  I  am  sharp-set,  for  I 


40  THE  APPLE. 

do  not  refuse  the  blue-pearinain,  I  fill  my  pockets  on 
each  side  ;  and  as  I  retrace  my  steps,  in  the  frosty  eve, 
beino-  perhaps  four  or  five  miles  from  home,  I  eat  one 
first  from  this  side,  and  then  from  that,  to  keep  my 


:•» 


A  TASTE  OF  MAINE  BIRCH. 

The  traveler  and  camper-out  in  Maine,  unless  li€ 
penetrates  its  more  northern  portions,  has  less  reason 
to  remember  it  as  a  pine-tree  State  than  a  birch-tree 
State.  The  white-pine  forests  have  melted  away  like 
snow  in  the  spring  and  gone  down  stream,  leaving 
only  patches  here  and  there  in  the  more  remote  and 
inaccessible  parts.  The  portion  of  the  State  I  saw  — 
the  valley  of  the  Kennebec  and  the  woods  about 
Moxie  Lake  —  had  been  shorn  of  its  pine  timber  more 
than  forty  years  before,  and  is  now  covered  with  a 
thick  growth  of  spruce  and  cedar  and  various  decid- 
uous trees.  But  the  birch  abounds.  Indeed,  when 
the  pine  goes  out  the  birch  comes  in;  the  race  of  men 
succeeds  the  race  of  giants.  This  tree  has  great  stay- 
at-home  virtues.  Let  the  sombre,  aspiring,  mysterious 
pine  go ;  the  birch  has  humble  every-day  uses.  In 
Maine,  the  paper  or  canoe  birch  is  turned  to  more 
account  than  any  other  tree.  I  read  in  Gibbon  that 
the  natives  of  ancient  Assyria  used  to  celebrate  in 
verse  or  prose  the  three  hundred  and  sixty  ns<>s  to 
which  the  various  parts  and  products  of  the  palm-1 
were  applied.  The  Maine  bireh  is  turned  to  so  many 
accounts  that  it  may  well  be  called  the  palm  of  this 
region.  Uncle  Nathan,  our  guide,  said  it  was  m 
especially  for  the  camper-out ;  yes,  and  for  the  wood- 
man and  frontiersman  generally.  It  is  a  magazine,  a 
furnishing  store  set  up  in  the  wilderness,  who  ids 


Jt^J  *i  X    ^  J.   *- J   J.    JLJ  KSJ.  J.TJ.  X±    I    J.    i    J-J  LJL   it  V/ii« 

are  free  to  every  coiner.  The  whole  equipment  of  the 
camp  lies  folded  in  it,  and  comes  forth  at  the  beck  of 
the  woodman's  axe ;  tent,  waterproof  roof,  boat,  camp 
atensils,  buckets,  cups,  plates,  spoons,  napkins,  table- 
cloths, paper  for  letters  or  your  journal,  torches,  can 
dies,  kindling-wood,  and  fuel.  The  canoe-birch  yields 
you  its  vestments  with  the  utmost  liberality.  Ask  for 
ats  coat,  and  it  gives  you  its  waistcoat  also.  Its  bark 
seems  wrapped  about  it  layer  upon  layer,  and  comes 
off  with  great  ease.  We  saw  many  rude  structures 
and  cabins  shingled  and  sided  with  it,  and  haystacks 
capped  with  it.  Near  a  maple-sugar  camp  there  was 
a  large  pile  of  birch-bark  sap-buckets,  —  each  oucket 
made  of  a  piece  Of  bark  about  a  yard  square,  folded 
up  as  the  tinman  folds  up  a  sheet  of  tin  to  make  a 
square  vessel,  the  corners  bent  around  against  the 
sides  and  held  by  a  wooden  pin.  When,  one  day.  we 
were  overtaken  by  a  shower  in  traveling  through  the 
woods,  our  guide  quickly  stripped  large  sheets  of  the 
oark  from  a  near  tree,  and  we  had  each  a  perfect 
umbrella  as  by  magic.  When  the  rain  was  over,  and 
we  moved  on,  I  wrapped  mine  about  me  like  a  large 
leather  apron,  and  it  shielded  my  clothes  from  the  wet 
bushes.  When  we  came  to  a  spring,  Uncle  Nathan 
would  have  a  birch-bark  cup  ready  before  any  of  us 
could  get  a  tin  one  out  of  his  knapsack,  and  I  think 
water  never  tasted  so  sweet  as  from  one  of  these  bark 
cups.  It  is  exactly  the  thing.  It  just  fits  the  mouth, 
and  it  seems  to  give  new  virtues  to  the  water.  It 
makes  me  thirsty  now  when  I  think  of  it.  In  oul 
camp  at  Moxie  we  made  a  large  birch-bark  box  t<» 
keep  the  butter  in  ;  and  the  butter  in  this  box,  covered 
with  some  leafy  boughs,  I  think  improved  in  flavoi 
day  by  day.    Maine  butter  needs  something  to  mollifj 


A    TASTE   OF  MAINE   BIRCH.  43 

and  sweeten  it  a  little,  and  I  think  birch  bark  will  do 
it.     In  camp  Uncle  Nathan  often  drank  his  tea  and 
coffee  from  a  bark  cup  ;  the  china  closet  in  the  bil 
tree  was  always  handy,  and  our  vulgar  tin  ware  wa 
erally  a  good  deal  mixed,  and  the  kitchen-maid  not  at 
all  particular  about  dish-washing.      We  all  tried  the 
Oatmeal  with  the  maple  syrup  in  one  of  these  dishes, 
and  the  stewed  mountain  cranberries,  using  a  birch 
bark  spoon,  and  never  found  service  better.     Uncle 
Nathan  declared  he  could  boil  potatoes  in  a  bark  kefc 
tie,  and  I  did  not  doubt  him.     Instead  of  sending  our 
soiled  napkins  and  table-spreads  to  the  wash,  we  rolled 
them  up  into  candles  and  torches,  and  drew  daily  upon 
our  stores  in  the  forest  for  new  ones. 

But  the  great  triumph  of  the  birch  is  of  course  the 
bark  canoe.  When  Uncle  Nathan  took  us  out  under 
his  little  wood-shed,  and  showed  us,  or  rather  modestly 
permitted  us  to  see,  his  nearly  finished  canoe,  it  was 
like  a  first  glimpse  of  some  new  and  unknown  genius 
of  the  woods  or  streams.  It  sat  there  on  the  chips 
and  shavings  and  fragments  of  bark  like  some  shy, 
delicate  creature  just  emerged  from  its  hiding-place, 
or  like  some  wild  flower  just  opened.  It  was  the  first 
ifooat  of  the  kind  I  had  ever  seen,  and  it  filled  mv  eve 
completely.  "What  woodcraft  it  indicated,  and  what 
a  wild  free  life,  sylvan  life,  it  promised!  It  had  such 
a  fresh,  aboriginal  look  as  I  had  never  before  seen  in 
any  kind  of  handiwork.  Its  clear  yellow-red  color 
would  have  become  the  cheek  of  an  Indian  maiden. 
Then  its  supple  curves  and  swells,  its  sinewy  stays 
and  thwarts,  its  bow-like  contour,  its  tomahawk  stem 
and  stern  rising  quickly  and  sharply  from  its  frame, 
were  all  vividly  suggestive  of  the  race  from  which  it 
Oame.     An  old  Indian  had  taught  Uncle  Nathan  thf 


44  A   TASTE  OF  MAINE  BIRCH. 

art,  and  the  soul  of  the  ideal  red  man  looked  out  of 
the  boat  before  us.  Uncle  Nathan  had  spent  two 
days  ranging  the  mountains  looking  for  a  suitable 
tree,  and  had  worked  nearly  a  week  on  the  craft.  It 
was  twelve  feet  long,  and  would  seat  and  carry  five 
men  nicely.  Three  trees  contribute  to  the  making  of 
a  canoe  besides  the  birch,  namely,  the  white  cedar  for 
ribs  and  lining,  the  spruce  for  roots  and  fibres  to  sew 
its  joints  and  bind  its  frame,  and  the  pine  for  pitch 
or  rosin  to  stop  its  seams  and  cracks.  It  is  hand-made 
and  home-made,  or  rather  wood-made,  in  a  sense  that 
no  other  craft  is,  except  a  dug-out,  and  it  suggests  a 
taste  and  a  refinement  that  few  products  of  civilization 
realize.  The  design  of  a  savage,  it  yet  looks  like  the 
thought  of  a  poet,  and  its  grace  and  fitness  haunt  the 
imagination.  I  suppose  its  production  was  the  inev- 
itable result  of  the  Indian's  wants  and  surround  in  «'s, 
but  that  does  not  detract  from  its  beauty.  It  is,  in- 
deed, one  of  the  fairest  flowers  the  thorny  plant  of 
necessity  ever  bore.  Our  canoe,  as  I  have  intimated, 
was  not  yet  finished  when  we  first  saw  it,  nor  yet 
when  we  took  it  up,  with  its  architect,  upon  our  met- 
aphorical backs  and  bore  it  to  the  woods0  It  lacked 
part  of  its  cedar  lining  and  the  rosin  upon  its  joints, 
and  these  were  added  after  we  reached  our  destination. 
Though  we  were  not  indebted  to  the  birch-tree  for 
our  guide,  Uncle  Nathan,  as  he  was  known  in  all  the 
country,  yet  he  matched  well  these  woodsy  products 
and  conveniences.  The  birch-tree  had  given  him  a 
large  part  of  his  tuition,  and  kneeling  in  his  canoe 
and  making  it  shoot  noiselessly  over  the  water  with 
that  subtle  yet  indescribably  expressive  and  athletic 
play  of  the  muscles  of  the  back  and  shoulders,  the 
boat  and  the  man  seemed  born  of  the  same  spirit. 


A    TASTE   OF  MAINE  BIRCH.  \o 

He   had  been   a  hunter  and   trapper  foi   <  vet  forty 
years;  he  had  grown  gray  in  the  woods,  had  ripened 

and  matured  there,  and  everything  about  hi  if 

the  spirit  of  the  woods  had  had  the  ordering  of  it ;  his 
/whole  make-up  was  in  a  minor  and  subdued  key,  like 
"the  moss  and  the  lichens,  or  like  the  protective  color- 
ing of  the  game,  —  everything  but  his  quick  sense 
Wd  penetrative  glance.  He  was  as  gentle  and  modest 
as  a  girl;  his  sensibilities  were  like  plants  that  grow 
in .  the  shade.  The  woods  and  the  solitudes  had 
touched  him  with  their  own  softening  and  refining 
influence;  had  indeed  shed  upon  his  soil  of  Life  a 
rich  deep  leaf  mould  that  was  delightful,  and  that 
nursed,  half  concealed,  the  tenderest  and  wildest 
growths.  There  was  grit  enough  back  of  and  beneath 
it  all,  but  he  presented  none  of  the  rough  and  repel 
ling  traits  of  character  of  the  conventional  backwoods- 
man. In  the  spring  he  was  a  driver  of  logs  on  the 
Kennebec,  usually  having  charge  of  a  large  gang  of 
men  ;  in  the  winter  he  was  a  solitary  trapper  and 
hunter  in  the  forests. 

Our  first  glimpse  of  Maine  waters  was  Pleasant 
Pond,  which  we  found  by  following  a  white,  rapid, 
musical  stream  from  the  Kennebec  three  miles  back 
into  the  mountains.  Maine  waters  are  for  the  most 
part  dark-complexioned,  Indian-colored  stream-,  but 
Pleasant  Pond  is  a  pale-face  among  them  both  ir 
name  and  nature.  It  is  the  only  strictly  silver  Ink-  1 
ever  saw.  Its  waters  seem  almost  artificially  white 
and  brilliant,  though  of  remarkable  transparency.  I 
think  I  detected  minute  shining  motes  held  in  suspen- 
sion in  it.  As  for  the  trout  they  are  veritable  ban 
of  silver  until  you  have  cut  their  flesh,  when  they  are 
$he  reddest  of  gold.     They  have  no  crimson  or  othel 


46  A    TASTE   OF  MAINE  BIRCH. 

spots,  and  the  straight  lateral  line  is  but  a  faint  pencil 
mark.  They  appeared  to  be  a  species  of  lake  trout 
peculiar  to  these  waters,  uniformly  from  ten  to  twelve 
inches  in  length.  And  these  beautiful  fish,  at  the  time 
y£  our  visit  (last  of  August)  at  least,  were  to  be 
feken  only  in  deep  water  upon  a  hook  baited  with  salt 
pork,  And  then  you  needed  a  letter  of  introduction 
feo  them.  They  were  not  to  be  tempted  or  cajoled  by 
strangers.  We  did  not  succeed  in  raising  a  fish,  al* 
though  instructed  how  it  was  to  be  done,  until  one  of 
the  natives,  a  young  and  obliging  farmer  living  hard 
by,  came  and  lent  his  countenance  to  the  enterprise. 
I  sat  in  one  end  of  the  boat  and  he  in  the  other ;  my 
pork  was  the  same  as  his,  and  I  manoeuvred  it  as 
directed,  and  yet  those  fish  knew  his  hook  from  mine 
in  sixty  feet  of  water,  and  preferred  it  four  times  in 
five.  Evidently  they  did  not  bite  because  they  were 
hungry,  but  solely  for  old  acquaintance'  sake. 

Pleasant  Pond  is  an  irregular  sheet  of  water,  two 
miles  or  more  in  its  greatest  diameter,  with  high,  rug- 
ged mountains  rising  up  from  its  western  shore,  and 
low  rolling  hills  sweeping  back  from  its  eastern  and 
northern,  covered  by  a  few  sterile  farms.  I  was  never 
tired,  when  the  wind  was  still,  of  floating  along  its 
margin  and  gazing  down  into  its  marvelously  trans* 
lucent  depths.  The  bowlders  and  fragments  of  roekf 
were  seen,  at  a  depth  of  twenty-five  or  thirty  feet? 
strewing  its  floor,  and  apparently  as  free  from  any 
covering  of  sediment  as  when  they  were  dropped  thetf 
by  the  old  glaciers  aeons  ago.  Our  camp  was  amid  u. 
dense  grove  of  second  growth  of  white  pine  on  the 
eastern  shore,  where,  for  one,  I  found  a  most  admk 
rable  cradle  in  a  little  depression,  outside  of  the  tent* 
carpeted  with  pine  needles,  in  which  to  pass  the  night, 


A    TASTE  OF  MAINE  BIRCH.  47 

The  camper-out  is  always  in  luck  if  he  can  find,  sh  i- 
tered  by  the  trees,  a  soft  hole  in  the  ground,  even     i 
he  has  a  stone  for  a  pillow.     The  earth  must  open  itfl 
arms  a  little  for  us  even  in  life,  if  we  are  to  b1 
well  upon  its  bosom.     I  have  often  heard  mi   grand 
father,  who  was  a  soldier  of  the  Revolution,  tell  witl 
great  gusto  how  he  once  bivouacked  in  a  little  In. How 
Hiade   by   the    overturning   of   a   tree,   and    slept 
soundly  that  he  did  not  wake  up  till  his  cradle  was 
half  full  of  water  from  a  passing  shower. 

What  bird  or  other  creature  might   represent  the 
divinity  of  Pleasant  Pond  I   do  not   know,   but    its 
demon,  as  of  most  northern  inland  waters,  is  fche  loon 
and  a  very  good    demon  he  is  too,  suggesting  some- 
thing not  so  much  malevolent,  as  arch,  sardonic,  ubi- 
quitous, circumventing,  with  just  a  tinge  of  something 
inhuman  and  uncanny.     His  fiery  red  eyes  gleaming 
forth  from  that  jet-black  head  are  full  of  meani 
Then  his  strange  horse  laughter  by  day  and  his  weird, 
doleful  cry  at  night,  like  that  of  a  lost  and  wandering 
spirit,   recall  no   other  bird   or  beast.     He    Bug 
something  almost  supernatural  in  his  alertness    and 
amazing  quickness,  cheating  the  shot  and  the  bullet  of 
the  sportsman  out  of  their  aim.     I  know  of  but  one 
other  bird  so  quick,  and  that  is  the  humming-bird, 
which  I  have,  never  been  able  to  kill  with  a  gun.     The 
loon  laughs  the  shot-gun  to  scorn,  and  the  ob 
young  farmer  above  referred  to  told  me  he  had  shot 
at   them   hundreds   of   times  with   his  rifle,   without 
effect,  —  they  always  dodged  his  bullet.     We  had  in 
our  party  a  breach-loading  rifle,  which  weapon  is  p 
haps  an  appreciable  moment  of  time  quicker  than  the 
ordinary  muzzle  loader,  and  this  the  poor  loon  could 
Dot  or  did  not  dodge.     He  had  not  timed  himself  te 


48  A    TASTE  OF  MAINE  BIRCH. 

that  species  of  fire-arm,  and  when,  with  his  fellow,  he 
swam  about  within  rifle  range  of  our  camp,  letting  off 
volleys  of  his  wild  ironical  ha-ha,  he  little  suspected 
ihe  dangerous  gun  that  was  matched  against  him. 
As  the  rifle  cracked  both  loons  made  the  gesture  of. 
diving,  but  only  one  of  them  disappeared  beneath  the 
»water ;  and  when  he  came  to  the  surface  in  a  few 
foments,  a  hundred  or  more  yards  away,  and  saw  hk 
companion  did  not  follow,  but  was  floating  on  the 
water  where  he  had  last  seen  him,  he  took  the  alarm, 
and  sped  away  in  the  distance.  The  bird  I  had  killed 
was  a  magnificent  specimen,  and  I  looked  him  ovej 
with  great  interest.  His  glossy  checkered  coat,  his 
banded  neck,  his  snow-white  breast,  his  powerful  lance- 
shaped  beak,  his  red  eyes,  his  black,  thin,  slender, 
marvelously  delicate  feet  and  legs,  issuing  from  his 
muscular  thighs,  and  looking  as  if  they  had  never 
touched  the  ground,  his  strong  wings  well  forwardr 
while  his  legs  were  quite  at  the  apex,  and  the  neat, 
elegant  model  of  the  entire  bird,  speed  and  quickness 
and  strength  stamped  upon  every  feature,  —  all  de- 
lighted and  lingered  in  the  eye.  The  loon  appears 
like  anything  but  a  silly  bird,  unless  you  see  him  in 
some  collection,  or  in  the  shop  of  the  taxidermist 
where  he  usually  looks  very  tame  and  goose-like* 
Nature  never  meant  the  loon  to  stand  up,  or  to  use 
his  feet  and  legs  for  other  purposes  than  swimming 
Indeed,  he  cannot  stand  except  upon  his  tail  in  a  per- 
pendicular attitude,  but  in  the  collections  he  is  poised 
upon  his  feet  like  a  barn-yard  fowl,  all  the  wildness, 
and  grace  and  alertness  goes  out  of  him.  My  speci- 
men sits  upon  a  table  as  upon  the  surface  of  the 
water,  his  feet  trailing  behind  him,  his  body  low  and 
trim,  his  head  elevated  and  slightly  turned  as  if  in  the 


A    TASTE   OF  MAINE  BIRCH. 

act  of  bringing  that  fiery  eye  to  bear  upon  you,  and 
vigilance  and  power  stamped  upon  every  lineament 

The  loon  is  to  the  fishes  what  the  hawk  is  to  the 
birds;    he   swoops    down   to   unknown    depths    upon 
vthem,  and  not  even  the  wary  trout  can    elude    him 
Uncle  Nathan  said  he  had  seen  the  loon  disap 
and  in  a  moment  come  up  with  a  large  trout,  win 
lie  would  cut  in  two  with  his  strong  heak,  and  BwaJ 
low  piecemeal.     Neither  the  loon  nor  the   otter   can 
bolt  a  fish  under  the  water;  he  must  come  to  the  snr- 
face  to  dispose  of  it.     (I  once  saw  a  man  eat  a  cal 
under  water  in  London.)     Our  guide  told  me  he  had 
seen  the  parent  loon  swimming  with  a  single  young 
one  upon  its  back.     When  closely  pressed  it  dove,  or 
44  div  *   as  he  would  have  it,  and  left  the  young  bii 
sitting  upon  the  water.     Then  it  too  disappeared,  and 
when  the  old  one  returned  and  called,  it  came  out  from 
the  shore.     On  the  wing  overhead,  the  loon  looks  not 
unlike    a   very   large    duck,    but   when   it   alights   it 
ploughs  into  the  water  like  a  bombshell.     It  probably 
cannot  take  flight  from  the  land,  as  the  one  Gilbert 
White  saw  and  describes  in  his  letters  was  picked  up 
in  a  field,  unable  to  launch  itself  into  the  air. 

From  Pleasant  Pond  we  went  seven  miles  through 
the  woods  to  Moxie  Lake,  following  an  overgrown 
lumberman's  "tote"  road,  our  canoe  and  Buppli  . 
etc.,  hauled  on  a  sled  by  the  young  fanner  with  hi: 
three-year-old  steers.  I  doubt  if  birch-bark  ever  made 
a  rougher  voyage  than  that.  As  I  watched  it  abovi 
the  bushes,  the  sled  and  the  luggage  being  hidden,  it 
appeared  as  if  tossed  in  the  wildest  and  most  tempest- 
uous  sea.  When  the  bushes  closed  above  it  I  fell 
if  ic  had  gone  down,  or  been  broken  into  a  hundred 
pieces.     Billows  of   rocks   and   logs,  and   chasms   of 


50  A    TASTE  OF  MAINE  BIRCH. 

creeks  and  spring  runs,  kept  it  rearing  and  pitching 
in  the  most  frightful  manner.  The  steers  went  at  a 
spanking  pace ;  indeed,  it  was  a  regular  bovine  gale ; 
but  their  driver  clung  to  their  side  amid  the  brush 
and  bowlders  with  desperate  tenacity,  and  seemed  to 
manage  them  by  signs  and  nudges,  for  he  hardly  u& 
tered  his  orders  aloud.  But  we  got  through  without 
any  serious  mishap,  passing  Mosquito  Creek  and  Mos- 
quito Pond,  and  flanking  Mosquito  Mountain,  but  see- 
ing no  mosquitoes,  and  brought  up  at  dusk  at  a  lum- 
berman's old  hay-barn,  standing  in  the  midst  of  a 
lonely  clearing  on  the  shores  of  Moxie  Lake. 

Here  we  passed  the  night,  and  were  lucky  in  hav- 
ing a  good  roof  over  our  heads,  for  it  rained  heavily. 
After  we  were  rolled  in  our  blankets  and  variously 
disposed  upon  the  haymow,  Uncle  Nathan  lulled  us  to 
sleep  by  a  long  and  characteristic  yarn. 

I  had  asked  him,  half  jocosely,  if  he  believed  in 
"  spooks  "  ;  but  he  took  my  question  seriously,  and 
without  answering  it  directly,  proceeded  to  tell  us 
what  he  himself  had  known  and  witnessed.  It  was, 
by  the  way,  extremely  difficult  either  to  surprise  or  to 
steal  upon  any  of  Uncle  Nathan's  private  opinions 
and  beliefs  about  matters  and  things.  He  was  as  shy 
of  all  debatable  subjects  as  a  fox  is  of  a  trap.  He 
usually  talked  in  a  circle,  just  as  he  hunted  moose  and 
caribou,  so  as  not  to  approach  his  point  too  rudely 
and  suddenly.  He  would  keep  on  the  lee  side  of  his 
interlocutor  in  spite  of  all  one  could  do.  He  was 
thoroughly  good  and  reliable,  but  the  wild  creature" 
of  the  woods,  in  pursuit  of  which  he  had  spent  so 
much  of  his  life,  had  taught  him  a  curious  gentleness 
and  indirection,  and  to  keep  himself  in  the  back* 
.ground ;  he  was  careful  that  you  should  not  scent  his 


A    TASTE   OF  MAIXE   BIRCH. 

opinions  upon  any  subject  at  all  polemic,  but  1  .,■    .  mid 
tell  you  what  he  had  seen  and  known.      What  he  had 

seen  and  known  about  spooks  was  briefly  this : In 

company  with  a  neighbor  he  was  passing  the   ni 
with    an   old    recluse    who  lived  somewhere  in  il. 
woods.     Their  host  was  au  Englishman,  who  had  the 
reputation  of  having  murdered  his  wife  some 
fore  in  another  part  of  the  country,  and,  deserted  by 
his  grown-up  children,  was  eking  out  his  daya  in  p 
erty  amid  these  solitudes.     The  three  men  were  bleep* 
ing  upon  the  floor,  with  Uncle  Nathan  next  to  a  rude 
partition  that  cdvided  the  cabin  into  two  room..      Ar, 
his  head  there  was  a  door  that  opened  into  this  other 
apartment.     Late    at    night,  Uncle    Nathan   said,  he 
awoke  and  turned  over,  and  his  mind  was  occupied 
with  various  things,  when  he  heard  somebody  behind 
the  partition.     He  reached  over  and  felt  that  both  of 
his  companions  were  in  their  places  beside  him.  and 
he  was  somewhat  surprised.     The  person,  or  whatever 
it  was,  in  the  other  room   moved  about  heavily,  and 
pulled  the  table  from  its  place  beside  the  wall  to  the 
middle  of  the  floor.      "  I   was  not  dreaming:,"   said 
Uncle  Nathan  ;   "  J  felt  of  my  eyes  twice  to    make 
sure,  and  they  were  wide  open."     Presently  the  dooi 
opened;  he  was  sensible  of  the  draught  upon  his  head 
and  a  woman's  form   stepped   heavily  past  him  : 
felt  the  "swirl"  of  her  skirts  as  she  went  by.     Tin 
there  was  a  loud  noise  in  the  room  as  if  some  on.-  had 
fallen  their  whole  length  upon  the  floor.     k*  It  jarred 
the  house,"  said  he,  "  and  woke  everybody  up.    I  a  4. 

old  Mr. if  he  heard  that  noise.     •  Ye  id  be, 

'it  was  thunder.'     But  it  was  not  thunder,  I    kis 
that;"  and  then  added,  "I  was  no  more  afraid  than  i 
am   this  minute.     I  never  was  the  least  mite  afraid 


52  A    TASTE   OF  MAINE  BIRCH. 

in  my  life.  And  my  eyes  were  wide  open,"  he  re* 
peated  ;  "  I  felt  of  them  twice  ;  but  whether  that  was 
the  speret  of  that  man's  murdered  wife  or  not  I  can- 
not tell.  They  said  she  was  an  uncommon  heavy 
woman."  Uncle  Nathan  was  a  man  of  unusually 
quick  aud  acute  senses,  and  he  did  not  doubt  their 
evidence  on  this  occasion  any  more  than  he  did  when 
they  prompted  him  to  level  his  rifle  at  a  bear  or  a 
moose. 

i  Moxie  Lake  lies  much  lower  than  Pleasant  Pond^ 
and  its  waters  compared  with  those  of  the  latter  are 
as  copper  compared  with  silver.  It  is  very  irregular 
in  shape ;  now  narrowing  to  the  dimensions  of  a  slow 
moving  grassy  creek,  then  expanding  into  a  broad 
deep  basin  with  rocky  shores,  and  commanding  the 
noblest  mountain  scenery.  It  is  rarely  that  the  pond- 
lily  and  the  speckled  trout  are  found  together,  —  the 
fish  the  soul  of  the  purest  spring  water,  the  flower  the 
transfigured  spirit  of  the  dark  mud  and  slime  of  slug- 
gish summer  streams  and  ponds ;  yet  in  Moxie  they 
were  both  found  in  perfection.  Our  camp  was  amid 
the  birches,  poplars,  and  white  cedars  near  the  head  of 
the  lake,  where  the  best  fishing  at  this  season  was  to 

1  be  had,  Moxie  has  a  small  oval  head,  rather  shallow5 
but  bumpy  with  rocks  ;  a  long,  deep  neck,  full  of 
springs,  where  the  trout  lie  ;  and  a  very  broad  chest, 
with  two  islands  tufted  with  pine-trees  for  breasts* 
We  swam  in  the  head,  we  fished  in  the  neck,  or  in  t 
small  section  of  it,  a  space  about  the  size  of  the 
Adam's  apple,  and  we  paddled  across  and  around  the 
broad  expanse  below.  Our  birch  bark  was  not  fin- 
ished and  christened  till  we  reached  Moxie.  The  ce- 
dar lining  was  completed  at  Pleasant  Pond,  where  we 
had  the  use  of  a  bateau,  but  the  rosin  was  not  applied 


A   TASTE   OF  MAINE  BIRCH.  69 

to  the  seams  till  we  reached  this  lake.  When  1  knelt 
down  in  it  for  the  first  time  and  put  its  slender  ma- 
ple paddle  into  the  water,  it  sprang  away  with  Buch 

quickness  and  speed  that  it  disturbed  me  in  m\ 
I  had  spurred  a  more  restive  and  spirited  Bteed  than  I 
was  used  to.  In  fact,  I  had  never  been  in  a  craft  that 
sustained  so  close  a  relation  to  my  will,  and  was  so 
responsive  to  my  slightest  wish.  When  1  caught  i 
first  large  trout  from  it,  it  sympathized  a  little  t<>>. 
closely,  and  my  enthusiasm  started  a  leak,  which,  how* 
ever,  with  a  live  coal  and  a  piece  of  rosin,  was  quickly 
mended.  You  cannot  perform  much  of  a  war-dance 
in  a  birch-bark  canoe:  better  wait  till  you  get  <;n  dry 
land.  Yet  as  a  boat  it  is  not  so  shy  and  k*  ticklish'' 
as  I  had  imagined.  One  needs  to  be  on  the  alert,  as 
becomes  a  sportsman  and  an  angler,  and  in  his  deal- 
ings with  it  must  charge  himself  with  three  things,  — 
precision,  moderation,  and  circumspection. 

Trout  weighing  four  and  five  pounds  have  been 
taken  at  Moxie,  but  none  of  that  size  came  to  our  hand. 
I  realized  the  fondest  hopes  I  had  dared  to  indulge  in 
when  I  hooked  the  first  two-pounder  of  my  life,  and 
my  extreme  solicitude  lest  he  get  away  1  trust  was  par- 
donable. My  friend,  in  relating  the  episode  in  cam]). 
said  I  implored  him  to  row  me  down  in  the  middle  of 
the  lake  that  T  might  have  room  to  manoeuvre  my  fish 
But  the  slander  has  barely  a  grain  of  truth  in  it.  The 
water  near  us  showed  several  old  stakes  broken  «>it 
just  below  the  surface,  and  my  fish  was  determined  to 
wrap  my  leader  about  one  of  these  stakes  ;  it  was  only 
for  the  clear  space  a  few  yards  farther  out  that  I 
prayed.  It  was  not  long  after  that  my  friend  found 
himself  in  an  anxious  frame  of  mind.  He  hooked  a 
iarge  trout,  which  came  home  on  him  so  suddenly  that 


64  A    TASTE   OF  MAINE   BIRCH. 

he  had  not  time  to  reel  up  his  line,  and  in  his  extrem« 
ity  he  stretched  his  tall  form  into  the  air  and  lifted 
up  his  pole  to  an  incredible  neight.  He  checked  the 
trout  before  it  got  under  the  boat,  but  dared  not  come 
down  an  inch,  and  then  began  his  amusing  further 
elongation  in  reaching  for  his  reel  with  one  hand, 
while  he  carried  it  ten  feet  into  the  air  with  the  other* 
A  step-ladder  would  perhaps  have  been  more  welcome 
to  him  just  then  than  at  any  other  moment  during  his 
life.  But  the  trout  was  saved,  though  my  friend's  but* 
tons  and  suspenders  suffered. 

We  learned  a  new  trick  in  fly-fishing  here,  worth 
disclosing.  It  was  not  one  day  in  four  that  the  trout 
would  take  the  fly  on  the  surface.  When  the  south 
wind  wras  blowing  and  the  clouds  threatened  rain,  they 
would  at  times,  notably  about  three  o'clock,  rise  hand- 
somely. But  on  all  other  occasions  it  was  rarely  that 
we  could  entice  them  up  through  the  twelve  or  fifteen 
feet  of  water.  Earlier  in  the  season  they  are  not  so 
lazy  and  indifferent,  but  the  August  languor  and 
drowsiness  were  now  upon  them.  So  we  learned  by 
a  lucky  accident  to  fish  deep  for  them,  even  weighting 
our  leaders  with  a  shot,  and  allowing  the  flies  to  sink 
nearly  to  the  bottom.  After  a  moment's  pause  we 
would  draw  them  slowly  up,  and  when  half  or  two 
thirds  of  the  way  to  the  top  the  trout  would  strikef 
when  the  sport  became  lively  enough.  Most  of  our 
fish  were  taken  in  this  way.  There  is  nothing  like 
the  flash  and  the  strike  at  the  surface,  and  perhaps 
only  the  need  of  food  will  ever  tempt  the  genuine 
angler  into  any  more  prosaic  style  of  fishing ;  but  if 
you  must  go  below  the  surface,  a  shotted  leader  is  the 
best  thing  to  use. 

Our  camp-fire  at  night  served  more  purposes  than 


A    TASTE   OF  MAINE   BIRCH. 

one,  from  its  embers  and  flickering  Bhadows,  Uncle 
Nathan  read  us  many  a  tale  of  his  life  in  the  vrooda 
They  were  the  same  old  hunter's  stories,  except  that 
they  evidently  had  the  merit  of  being  strictly  i; 
and  hence  were  not  very  thrilling  or  marvelous.    Qni 
Nathan's  tendency  was  rather  to  tone   down  and   be 
little  his  experiences  than  to  exaggerate  them.     If  he 
ever  bragged  at  all  (and  I  suspeet  he  did  just  a  little 
when  telling  us  how   he   outshot   one  of   the   fam« 
riflemen  of  the  American  team,  whom  he  was  sruidinc 
through  these  woods),  he  did  it  in  such  a  sly,  round- 
about way  that  it   was  hard  to  catch  him  at  it.     His 
passage  with  the  rifleman  referred  to  shows  the  dif- 
ference between  the    practical  off-hand    skill   of   the 
hunter  in  the  woods  and  the  science  of  the  long-range 
target  hitter.    Mr.  Bull's  Eye  had  heard  that  his  guide 
was  a  capital  shot  and  had  seen  some  proof  of  it,  and 
hence  could  not  rest  till  he  had  had  a  trial  of  skill  w  ith 
him.     Uncle  Nathan,  being  the  challenged  party,  had 
the  right  to  name  the  distance  and  the  conditions. 
A  piece  of  white  paper  the  size  of  a  silver  dollar  was 
put  upon  a  tree  twelve  rods  off,  the  contestants  to  fire 
three  shots  each  off-hand.     Uncle  Nathan's  first  bullet 
barely  missed  the  mark,  but  the  other  two  were  plan: 
well  into  it.    Then  the  great  rifleman  took  his  turn,  and 
EJiissed  every  time. 

"By  hemp!"   said  Uncle  Nathan,  "  I  was   Borrj  I 

shot  so  well,  Mr. took  it  so  to  heart ;  and  I  had 

used  his  own  rifle,  too.     He  did  not  get  over  it  for  a 
week." 

But  far  more  ignominious  was  the  failure  oi   Mr. 
Bull's  Eye  when  he  saw  his  first  bear.     They  w< 
paddling  slowly  and  silently  down  Dead  River,  when 
fche  guide  heard  a  slight  noise  in  the  bushes  just  be* 


56  A    TASTE   OF  MAINE  BIRCH. 

hind  a  little  bend.  He  whispered  to  the  rifleman,  who 
sat  kneeling  in  the  bow  of  the  boat,  to  take  his  rifle. 
Bat  instead  of  doing  so  he  picked  up  his  two-barreled 
shot-gun.  As  they  turned  the  point,  there  stood  a 
bear  not  twenty  yards  away,  drinking  from  the  stream. 
Cncle  Nathan  held  the  canoe,  while  the  man  who  bad 
eome  so  far  in  quest  of  this  ver}r  game  was  trying  to 
Bay  lown  his  shot-gun  and  pick  up  his  rifle.  "His 
hand  moved  like  the  hand  of  a  clock,''  said  Uncle 
Nathan,  u  and  I  could  hardly  keep  my  seat.  I  knew 
the  bear  would  see  us  in  a  moment  more,  and  run." 
Instead  of  laying  his  gun  by  his  side,  where  it  be- 
longed, he  reached  it  across  in  front  of  him  and  laid 
it  upon  his  rifle,  and  in  trying  to  get  the  latter  from 
under  it  a  noise  was  made  ;  the  bear  heard  it  and 
raised  his  head.  Still  there  was  time,  for  as  the  bear 
sprang  into  the  woods  he  stopped  and  looked  back,  — 
"  as  I  knew  he  would,"  said  the  guide  ;  yet  the  marks- 
man was  not  ready.  "  By  hemp  !  I  could  have  shot 
three  bears,"  exclaimed  Uncle  Nathan,  "  while  he  was 
getting  that  rifle  to  his  face  ! ' 

Poor  Mr.  Bull's  Eye  was  deeply  humiliated.  "  Just 
the  chance  1  had  been  looking  for,"  he  said,  "and  my 
wits  suddenly  left  me." 

As  a  hunter  Uncle  Nathan  always  took  the  game 
on  its  own  terms,  that  of  still-hunting.  He  even  shot 
foxes  in  this  way,  going  into  the  fields  in  the  fall  just 
at  break  of  day,  and  watching  for  them  about  their 
mousing  haunts.  One  morning,  by  these  tactics,  he 
shot  a  black  fox  ;  a  fine  specimen,  he  said,  and  a  wild 
one,  for  he  stopped  and  looked  and  listened  every  few 
yards. 

He  had  killed  over  two  hundred  moose,  a  large 
nuicber  of  them  at  night  on  the  lakes.     His  method 


A    TASTE   OF  MAINE  BIRCH.  "»7 

was  to  go  out  in  his  canoe  and  conceal  himself  l»y 
some  point  or  island,  and  wait  till  he  heard  the  game. 
In  the  fall  the  moose  comes  into  the  water  to  eat  the 

large   fibrous   roots  of  the   poml-lili.         He   Bpla&fa 
along  till  he  finds  a  suitable  spot,  when  he  begins  feed- 
ing, sometimes   thrusting  his  head  and  neck  Beveral 
feet  under  water.     The  hunter  listens,  and  when  the 
imoose  lifts  his  head  and  the  rills  of  water  run  from 
it,  and  he  hears  him  "  swash  "  the  lily  roots  about  to 
get  off  the  mud,  it  is  his  time  to  start.     Silently  a 
shadow  he  creeps  up  on  the  moose,  who  by  the  way, 
it  seems,  never  expects  the  approach  of  danger  from 
the  water  side.     If  the  hunter  accidentally  make 
noise  the  moose  looks  toward  the  shore  for  it.     Th 
is  always  a  slight  gleam  on  the  water,  Uncle  Nathan 
says,  even  in  the  darkest  night,  and  the  dusky  form 
of  the  moose  can  be  distinctly  seen  upon  it.     When 
the  hunter  sees  this  darker  shadow  he  lifts  his  <rnn  to 
the  sky  and  gets  the  range  of  its  barrels,  then  lowers 
it  till  it  covers  the  mark,  and  fires. 

The    largest   moose  Uncle    Nathan   ever   killed    is 
mounted  in  the  State  House  at  Augusta.     lie  shot 
him  while  hunting  in  winter  on    snow -shot-      The 
moose  was  reposing  upon  the   ground,  with  his  h 
stretched  out  in  front  of  him,  as  one  may  some*! 
see  a  cow  resting.     The  position  was  such  that 
a  quartering  shot  through  the  animal's  hip  could  reach 
its  heart.     Studying  the  problem  carefully,  and  taki 
his  own   time,  the  hunter  fired.     The   moose   Bprang 
into  the  air,  turned,  and  came  with  tremendous  Btri< 
straight  toward   him.     "I  knew  he  had  not  seen  <»r 
scented  me,"  said  Uncle  Nathan,  "but,  by  hemp,  I 
wished  myself  somewhere  else  just  then;   for   I   \ 
lying  right  down  in  his  path."     But  the  noble  a.m. 


58  A    TASTE  OF  MAINE  BIRCH. 

stopped  a  few  yards  short,  and  fell  dead  with  a  bullet« 
bole  through  his  heart. 

When  the  moose  yard  in  the  winter,  that  is,  restrict 
their  wanderings  to  a  well-defined  section  of  the  forest 
or  mountain,  trampling  down  the  snow  and  beating 
paths  in  all  directions,  they  browse  off  only  the  most 
dainty  morsels  first ;  when  they  go  over  the  ground  s- 
'second  time  they  crop  a  little  cleaner ;  the  third  time 
they  sort  still  closer,  till  by  and  by  nothing  is  left* 
Spruce,  hemlock,  poplar,  the  barks  of  various  ^rres, 
everything  within  reach,  is  cropped  close.  When  the 
hunter  comes  upon  one  of  these  yards  the  problem  for 
him  to  settle  is,  Where  are  the  moose  ?  for  it  is  abso- 
lutely necessary  that  he  keep  on  the  lee  side  of  them. 
So  he  considers  the  lay  of  the  land,  the  direction  of 
the  wind,  the  time  of  day,  the  depth  of  the  snow,  ex- 
amines the  spoor,  the  cropped  twigs,  and  studies  every 
hint  and  clew  like  a  detective.  Uncle  Nathan  said  he 
could  not  explain  to  another  how  lie  did  it,  but  he 
could  usually  tell  in  a  few  minutes  in  what  direction 
to  look  for  the  game.  His  experience  had  ripened 
into  a  kind  of  intuition  or  winged  reasoning  that  was 
above  rules. 

He  said  that  most  large  game,  deer,  caribou,  moosef 
bear,  when  started  by  the  hunter  and  not  mucfo 
scared,  were  sure  to  stop  and  look  back  before  disap* 
pearing  from  sight :  he  usually  waited  for  this  last 
and  best  chance  to  fire.  He  told  us  of  a  huge  bear 
he  had  seen  one  morning  while  still-hunting  foxes  in 
the  fields ;  the  bear  saw  him,  and  got  into  the  woods 
before  he  could-get  a  good  shot.  In  her  course  some 
distance  up  the  mountain  was  a  bald,  open  spot,  and 
he  felt  sure  when  she  crossed  this  spot  she  would 
pause  and   look  behind  her ;  and  sure  enough,  like 


A    TASTE    OF   MAINE   BIRCH, 

Lot's  wife,  her  curiosity  got  the  better  of  hei  j 
stopped    to  have  a  final  look,  and  her  travek   em 
there  and  then. 

Uncle  Nathan  had  trapped  and  shot  a  gr<  at  main 
bears,  and  some  of  his  experiences   revealed  an  un 
usual  degree  of  sagacity  in  this  animal.     One  April 
when  the  weather  began  to  get  warm  and  thaw.,  an 
old  bear  left  her  den  in  the  rocks  and  built  a  lai 
warm  nest  of  grass,  leaves,  and  the  bark  of  the  white 
cedar,   under  a  tall  balsam  fir  that   stood   in  a  low, 
sunny,  open  place  amid  the  mountains.      Hither 
conducted  her  two  cubs,  and  the  family  began  life  in 
what    might    be  called   their   spring  residence.     The 
tree  above  them  was  for  shelter,  and   for  refuge 
the  cubs  in  case  danger  approached,  as  it  soon  did  in 
the  form  of   Uncle  Nathan.     He   happened  that  way 
soon  after  the  bear  had  moved.     Seeing  her  track  in 
the  snow,  lie  concluded  to  follow  it.     When  the  bear 
had  passed,  the  snow  had  been  soft  and  sposhy,  and 
she  had  u  slumped,"  he  said,  several  inches.     It  was 
now  hard   and   slippery.     As  he  neared  the  tree 
track  turned  and  doubled,  and  tacked  this  way  and 
that,  and  led  through  the  worst  brush  and  brambl 
tr»  be  found.     This  was  a  shrewd  thought  of  the  old 
bear;  she  could  thus  hear  her  enemy  coming  a  long 
time  before  he  drew  very  near.     When  Uncle  Nathan 
finally  reached  the  nest,  he  found  it  empty,  but  still 
'warm.     Then  he  began  to  circle  about  and  look  fol 
the   bear's  footprints   or  nail-prints    upon   the  frozen 
snow.     Not    finding   them  the  first  time,  he   took   B 
larger  circle,  then   a  still  larger;  finally  he  mad.    a 
long  detour,  and  spent  nearly  an  hour  searching  lot 
some  clew  to  the  direction  the  bear  had  taken,  but  all 
to  no   purpose.     Then  he  returned   to  the   tree   and 


60  A    TASTE   OF  MAINE  BiRCll. 

scrutinized  it.  The  foliage  was  very  dense,  but  pres* 
ently  lie  made  out  one  of  the  cubs  near  the  top,  stand* 
ing  up  amid  the  branches,  and  peering  down  at  him. 
This  he  killed.  Further  search  only  revealed  a  mast 
of  foliage  apparently  more  dense  than  usual,  but  a 
bullet  sent  into  it  was  followed  by  loud  whimpering 
and  crying,  and  the  other  baby  bear  came  tumbling 
down.  In  leaving  the  place,  greatly  puzzled  as  to 
what  had  become  of  the  mother  bear,  Uncle  Nathan 
followed  another  of  her  frozen  tracks,  and  after  about 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  saw  beside  it,  upon  the  snow,  the 
fresh  trail  he  had  been  in  search  of.  In  making  her 
escape  the  bear  had  stepped  exactly  in  her  old  tracks 
that  were  hard  and  icy,  and  had  thus  left  no  mark  tilj 
she  took  to  the  snow  again. 

During  his  trapping  expeditions  into  the  woods  in 
midwinter,  I  was  curious  to  know  how  Uncle  Nathan 
passed  the  nights,  as  we  were  twice  pinched  with  the 
cold  at  that  season  in  our  tent  and  blankets.  It  was 
no  trouble  to  keep  warm,  he  said,  in  the  coldest 
weather.  As  night  approached,  he  would  select  a 
place  for  his  camp  on  the  side  of  a  hill.  With  one  of 
his  snow-shoes  he  would  shovel  out  the  snow  till  the 
ground  was  reached,  carrying  the  snow  out  in  front, 
as  we  scrape  the  earth  out  of  the  side  of  a  hill  to  level 
up  a  place  for  the  house  and  yard.  On  this  level 
place,  which,  however,  was  made  to  incline  slightly 
toward  the  hill,  his  bed  of  boughs  was  made.  On  the 
ground  he  had  uncovered  he  built  his  fire.  His  bed 
was  thus  on  a  level  with  the  fire,  and  the  heat  could 
not  thaw  the  snow  under  him  and  let  him  down,  or 
the  beaming  logs  roll  upon  him.  With  a  steep  ascent 
behind  it  the  fire  burned  better,  and  the  wind  was  not 
ho  ai>t  to  drive  the  smoke  and   blaze   in  upon  him. 


A    TASTE   OF  MAIM:   BIRCB.  «1 

Then,  with  the  long,  curving  branches  of  the  spruce 

stuck  thickly  around  three  sides  of  thb  bed,  and  curv- 
ing over  and  uniting  their  tops  above  it,  a  shelter  \ 
formed  that  would  keep  out  the  cold   and   th< 
and  that  would  catch  and  retain  the  warmth  of  the  tin- 
Rolled  in  his   blanket  in  such  a  nest,  Uncle  Nathan 
aad  passed  hundreds  of  the  most  frigid  winter  Bights 

One  day  we  made  an  excursion  of  three  miles 
through  the  woods  to  Bald  Mountain,  following  a  dim 
trail.  We  saw,  as  we  filed  silently  along,  plenty  of 
signs  of  caribou,  deer,  and  bear,  but  were  not  bless 
with  a  sio-ht  of  either  of  the  animals  themselv< 
noticed  that  Uncle  Nathan,  in  looking  through  the 
woods,  did  not  hold  his  head  as  we  did,  but  thrust  it 
slightly  forward,  and  peered  under  the  branches  like 
a  deer  or  other  wild  creature. 

The  summit  of  Bald  Mountain  was  the  most  im- 
pressive mountain-top  I  had  ever  seen,  mainly,  ]  i  r- 
naps,  because  it  was  one  enormous  crown  of  nearly 
naked  granite.  The  rock  had  that  gray,  elemental, 
eternal  look  which  granite  alone  has.  One  seemed  i 
be  face  to  face  with  the  gods  of  the  fore-world.  Like 
an  atom,  like  a  breath  of  to-day,  we  were  suddenly 
confronted  by  abysmal  geologic  time,  —  the  eternil 
past  and  the  eternities  to  come.  The  enormous  cleav- 
age of  the  rocks,  the  appalling  cracks  and  fissun  s,  the 
rent  bowlders,  the  smitten  granite  floors,  gave  one  c 
new  sense  of  the  power  of  heat  and  frost.  En  one 
place  we  noticed  several  deep  parallel  grooves,  made 
by  the  old  glaciers.  In  the  depressions  on  the  sum- 
mit  there  was  a  hard,  black,  peaty-like  soil  that  loo. 
indescribably  ancient  and  unfamiliar.  Out  of  I 
mould,  that  might  have  come  from  the  moon  or  the 
interplanetary  spaces,  were  growing  mountain   craft- 


62  A    TASTE   OF  MAINE  BIRCH. 

berries  and  blueberries  or  huckleberries.  We  were 
soon  so  absorbed  in  gathering  the  latter  that  we  were 
quite  oblivious  of  the  grandeurs  about  us.  It  is  these 
blueberries  that  attract  the  bears.  In  eating  them, 
Uncle  Nathan  said,  they  take  the  bushes  in  their 
mouths,  and  by  an  upward  movement  strip  them  clean 
of  both  leaves  and  berries.  We  were  constantly  on 
the  lookout  for  the  bears,  but  failed  to  see  any.  Yei 
a  few  days  afterward,  when  two  of  our  party  returned 
here  and  encamped  upon  the  mountain,  they  saw  five 
during  their  stay,  but  failed  to  get  a  good  shot.  The 
rifle  was  in  the  wrong  place  each  time.  The  man 
with  the  shot-gun  saw  an  old  bear  and  two  cubs  lift 
themselves  from  behind  a  rock  and  twist  their  noses 
around  for  his  scent,  and  then  shrink  away.  They 
were  too  far  off  for  his  buckshot.  I  must  not  forget 
the  superb  view  that  lay  before  us,  a  wilderness  of 
woods  and  waters  stretching  away  to  the  horizon  on 
every  hand.  Nearly  a  dozen  lakes  and  ponds  could 
be  seen,  and  in  a  clearer  atmosphere  the  foot  of  Moose- 
head  Lake  would  have  been  visible.  The  highest  and 
most  striking  mountain  to  be  seen  was  Mount  Bige- 
low,  rising  dbove  Dead  River,  far  to  the  west,  and  its 
two  sharp  peaks  notching  the  horizon  like  enormous 
saw-teeth.  We  walked  around  and  viewed  curiously 
a  huge  bowlder  on  the  top  of  the  mountain  that  had 
1  been  split  in  two  vertically,  and  one  of  the  halves 
moved  a  few  feet  out  of  its  bed.  It  looked  recent 
and  familiar,  but  suggested  gods  instead  of  men.  The 
force  that  moved  the  rock  had  plainly  come  from  the 
north.  I  thought  of  a  similar  bowlder  I  had  seen  not 
long  before  on  the  highest  point  of  the  Shawangunk 
Mountains,  in  New  York,  one  side  of  which  is  propped 
up  with  a  large  stone,  as  wall-builders  prop  up  a  rock 


A    TASTE   OF  MAINE   BlkCH.  68 

to  wrap  a  chain  around  it.  The  rock  Beemfl  poised 
lightly,  and  has  but  a  few  points  of  bearin  In  this 
instance,  too,  the  power  had  come  from  the  north. 

The  prettiest  botanical  specimen  my  trip  yielded 
was  a  little  plant  that  bears  the  ugly  name  of  horn 
bladderwort    (Utricular la    cornuta),    and     which    1 
found  growing  in  marshy  places  along  the  shores  of 
Moxie  Lake.     It  has  a  slender,  naked  stem  nearly  a 

■ 

foot  high,  crowned  by  two  or  more  large  deep  yellt 
flowers,  —  flowers  the  shape  of  little  bonnets  or  hood  . 
One  almost  expected  to  see  tiny  faces  looking  out  of 
them.     This  illusion  is  heightened  by  the  horn  or  Bpur 
of  the  flower,  which  projects  from  the  hood  like  a  long 
tapering   chin,  —  some    masker's    device.     Then    the 
cape   behind, — what  a  smart  upward   curve  it    1 
as  if  spurned  by  the  fairy  shoulders  it  was  meant  to 
cover  !     But  perhaps  the  most  notable  thing  about  the 
flower  was  its  fragrance,  —  the  richest  and   str< 
perfume  I  have  ever  found  in  a  wild  flower.     This 
our  botanist,  Gray,  does  not  mention,  as  if  one  should 
describe  the  lark  and  forget  its  song.      1  he  fragrance 
suggested  that 'of  white  clover,  but  was  more  raid;  and 
spicy. 

The  woods  about  Moxie  Lake  were  literally  ear 
ed  with  Linncea.     I  had  never  seen  it  in  such  profu- 
sion.    In  early  summer,  the  period  of  its  bloom. 
a  charming  spectacle  the  mossy  floors  of  these  n  m 
woods  must  present!      The  flowers  are  purple 
color,  nodding  and  fragrant.     Another  very  abundant 
plant   in   these   woods   was   the    Clintonia    borea 
Uncle  Nathan  said  it  was  called  "  bear's  com."  though 
he  did  not  know  why.     The  only  noticeable  flower  by 
the  Maine  roadsides  at  this  season  that  is  nol  ooran 
in  other  parts  of  the  country   is    the    harebell.     Us 


64  A    TASTE    OF  MAINE  BIRCH. 

brigLt  blue,  bell-shaped  corolla  shone  out  from  amid 
the  dry  grass  and  weeds  all  along  the  route.  It  was 
one  of  the  most  delicate  roadside  flowers  I  had  ever 
seen. 

The  only  new  bird  I  saw  in  Maine  was  the  pileated 
woodpecker,  or  black  "  log  cock, ';  called  by  Uncle 
Nathan  "  wood  cock."  1  had  never  before  seen  or 
heard  this  bird,  and  its  loud  cackle  in  the  woods  about 
Moxie  was  a  new  sound  to  me.  It  is  the  wildest  and 
largest  of  our  northern  woodpeckers,  and  the  rarest., 
Its  voice  and  the  sound  of  its  hammer  are  heard  only 
in  the  depths  of  the  northern  woods.  It  is  about  as 
large  as  a  crow,  and  nearly  as  black. 

We  stayed  a  week  at  Moxie,  or  until  we  became 
surfeited  with  its  trout,  and  had  killed  the  last  Mer- 
ganser duck  that  lingered  about  our  end  of  the  lake. 
The  trout  that  had  accumulated  on  our  hands  we  had 
kept  alive  in  a  large  champagne  basket  submerged  in 
the  lake,  and  the  morning  we  broke  camp  the  basket 
was  towed  to  the  shore  and  opened ;  and  after  we  had 
feasted  our  eyes  upon  the  superb  spectacle,  every 
&rout,  twelve  or  fifteen  in  number,  some  of  them  two* 
pounders,  was  allowed  to  swim  back  into  the  lake0 
They  went  leisurely,  in  couples  and  in  trios,  and  were 
soon  kicking  up  their  heels  in  their  old  haunts.  I  ex- 
pect that  the  divinity  who  presides  over  Moxie  will 
see  to  it  that  every  one  of  those  trout,  doubled  SID 
weight,  comes  to  our  basket  in  the  future. 


WINTER  NEIGHBORS. 

country  is  more  of  a  wilderness,   more  of   a 
wild  solitude,  in  the  winter  than  in  the  Bummer.      l 
wild  comes  out.     The  urban,  the  cultivated,  is  hidden 
or  negatived.     You   shall  hardly  know  a  good  field 
from  a  poor,  a  meadow  from  a  pasture,  a  park  from  a 
forest.     Lines  and  boundaries  are  disregarded  ;  eral 
and,  bar-ways  are  unclosed ;  man  lets  go  his  hold  upon 
the  earth ;    title-deeds  are  deep  buried   beneath    the 
snow;    the  best-kept   grounds   relapse   to  a  state   of 
nature;  under  the  pressure  of  the  cold   all   the  wild 
creatures  become  outlaws,  and  roam  abroad  beyond 
their  usual  haunts.     The  partridge  comes  to  the  or 
chard  for  buds;  the  rabbit  comes  to  the  garden  and 
lawn;  the  crows  and  jays  come  to  the  ash-heap  and 
corn-crib,  the  snow-buntings  to  the  stack  and  to  the 
barn-yard;    tne    sparrows    pilfer   from    the    domestic 
fowJs;  the  pine  grosbeak  conies  down  from  the  north 
and  shears  your  maples  of  their  buds  ;  the  fox   prowla 
about  your  premises  at  night,  and  the  fed  squirrels 
find  your  grain  in  the  barn  or  steal  the   butternut 
from  your  attic.      In  fact,  winter,  like  some  great   08 
lami.ty,  changes  the  status  of  most  creatures  and  Bets 
them    adrift.      Winter,    like    poverty,    makes    us    ac- 
quainted with  strange  bed  fed  lows. 

For  my  part,  my  nearest  approach  to  a  Btrange  bed 
fellow  is  the  little  gray  rabbit  that  has  taken  up  bei 
abede  und-,     my  study  floor.      As  she  spends  tk 


66  WINTER  NEIGHBORS. 

here  and  is  out  larking  at  night,  she  is  not  much  of  a 
bedfellow  after  all.  It  is  probable  that  I  disturb  her 
slumbers  more  than  she  does  mine.  I  think  she  is 
some  support  to  me  under  there  —  a  silent  wild-eyed 
witness  and  backer ;  a  type  of  the  gentle  and  harm* 
less  in  savage  nature.  She  has  no  sagacity  to  give  me 
or-  lend  me,  but  that  soft,  nimble  foot  of  hers,  anc| 
that  touch  as  of  cotton  wherever  she  goes,  are  worthy 
of  emulation.  I  think  I  can  feel  her  good-will  through 
the  floor,  and  I  hope  she  can  mine.  When  I  have  3 
happy  thought  I  imagine  her  ears  twitch,  especially 
when  I  think  of  the  sweet  apple  I  will  place  by  hei 
doorway  at  night.  I  wonder  if  that  fox  chanced 
to  catch  a  glimpse  of  her  the  other  night  when  he 
stealthily  leaped  over  the  fence  near  by  and  walked 
along  between  the  study  and  the  house?  How  clearly 
one  could  read  that  it  was  not  a  little  dog  that  had 
passed  there.  There  was  something  furtive  in  the 
track  ;  it  shied  off  away  from  the  house  and  around  it, 
as  if  eying  it  suspiciously ;  and  then  it  had  the  caution 
and  deliberation  of  the  fox — bold,  bold,  but  not  too 
bold  ;  wariness  was  in  every  footprint.  If  it  had  been 
a  little  dog  that  had  chanced  to  wander  that  way, 
when  he  crossed  my  path  lie  would  have  followed  it 
up  to  the  barn  and  have  gone  smelling  around  fop 
a  bone  ;  but  this  sharp,  cautious  track  held  straight 
across  all  others,  keeping  five  or  six  rods  from  the 
house,  up  the  hill,  across  the  highway  towards  a 
neighboring  farmstead,  with  its  nose  in  the  air  and  it? 
eye  and  ear  alert,  so  to  speak. 

A  winter  neighbor  of  mine  in  whom  1  am  inter- 
ested, and  who  perhaps  lends  me  his  support  after  his 
kind,  is  a  little  red  owl,  whose  retreat  is  in  the  heart 
\o£  an  old  apple-tree  just  over  the  fence.     Where  he 


WINTER   NEIGHBORS  67 

keeps  himself  in  spring  and  summei  T  do  not  fa  ow, 

but  late  every  fall,  aiul  at  intervals   all  winter,  his 
hiding-place  is  discovered  by  the  jays  and  Qut-hatch 
and  proclaimed  from   the  tree-tops  for  the  B]  of 

half  an  hour  or  so,  with  all  the  powers  of  voir, 
can  command.     Four  times  during  one  wintei    they 
called  me  out  to  behold  this  little  ogre  feigning  Bleep 
in  Ms  den,  sometimes  in  one  apple-tree,  sometim  >,a  in 
another,  j  Whenever  I  heard  their  cries,  I  knew  my 
neighbor  was  being  berated.     The  birds  would  take 
turns  at  looking  in  upon  him  and  uttering  their  alarm* 
notes.     Every  jay  within  hearing  would  coin.-  to  the 
spot  and   at   once  approach  the  hole  in  the  trunk  01 
limb,  and  with  a  kind  of  breathless  eagerness  and 
citement  take  a  peep   at  the  owl,  and  then  join  the 
outcry.     When  I  approached  they  would  hastily  take 
a  final  look  and  then  withdraw  and  regard  mv  m< 
merits  intently.     After   accustoming   my  eye    to    the 
faint  light  of  the  cavity  for  a  few  moments,  I  could 
usually  make  out  the  owl  at  the  bottom  feigning  Bleep. 
Feigning,  I  say,  because  this  is  what  he  really  did,  as 
I  first  discovered  one  day  when  I  cut  into  his  retreat 
with  the  axe.     The  loud  blows  and  the  falling  chips 
did  not  disturb  him  at  all.     When  I  reached  in 
stick  and  pulled  him  over  on  his  side,  leaving  one  of 
his  wings  spread  out,  he  made  no  attempt  to  re 
himself,  but  lay  among  the  chips   and   fragments    oi 
decayed  wood,  like  a  part  of  themselvi         [ndeed,  it 
took  a  sharp  eye  to  distinguish  him.     Nor  till  J  : 
pulled  him  forth  by  one  wing,  rather  rudelj 
abandon  his  trick  of  simulated  sleep  or  death.     Then 
like  a  detected  pickpocket,   he  was    suddenly 
formed  into    another  creature.      His   eyes    flew    wi 
apen,  his  talons  clutched  my  finger,  hi     ears  were  de- 


68  WINTER   NEIGHBORS. 

pressed,  and  every  motion  and  look  said,  '"  Hands  off, 
at  your  peril."  Finding  this  game  did  not  work,  he 
soon  began  to  "  play  'possum  "  again.  I  put  a  cover 
over  my  study  wood-box  and  kept  him  captive  for  a 
week.  Look  in  upon  him  any  time,  night  or  day,  and 
lie  was  apparently  wrapped  in  the  profoundest  slum- 
ber ;  but  the  live  mice  which  I  put  into  his  box  from 
time  to  time  found  his  sleep  was  easily  broken  ;  there 
would  be  a  sudden  rustle  in  the  box,  a  faint  squeak, 
and  then  silence.  After  a  week  of  captivity  I  gave 
him  his  freedom  in  the  full  sunshine :  no  trouble  iot 
him  to  see  which  way  and  where  to  go. 

Just  at  dusk  in  the  winter  nights,  I  often  hear  hid 
soft  bur-r-r-r,  very  pleasing  and  bell-like.  What  a 
furtive,  woody  sound  it  is  in  the  winter  stillness,  so 
Unlike  the  harsh  scream  of  the  hawk.  But  all  the 
ways  of  the  owl  are  ways  of  softness  and  duskiness. 
His  wings  are  shod  with  silence,  his  plumage  is  edged 

vwith  down. 

J\  Another  owl  neighbor  of  mine,  with  whom  I  pass 
the  time  of  day  more  frequently  than  with  the  last, 
lives  farther  away.  I  pass  his  castle  every  night  on 
my  way  to  the  post-office,  and  in  winter,  if  the  hour 
is  late  enough,  am  pretty  sure  to  see  him  standing  in 
his  doorway,  surveying  the  passers-by  and  the  land- 
scape through  narrow  slits  in  his  eyes.  For  four  suc- 
cessive winters  now  have  I  observed  him.  As  the 
twilight  begins  to  deepen  he  rises  out  of  his  cavity 
in  the  apple-tree,  scarcely  faster  than  the  moon  rises 
from  behind  the  hill,  and  sits  in  the  opening,  com- 
pletely framed  by  its  outlines  of  gray  bark  and  dead 
vood,  and  by  his  protective  coloring  virtually  invisible 
to  every  eye  that  does  not  know  he  is  there.  Prob' 
ably  my  own  is  the  only  eye  that  has  ever  penetrated 


WINTER   NEIGHBORS. 

his  secret,  and  mine  never  would  have  done;  bo  had  I 
not  chanced  on  one  occasion  to  Bee  him  leave  hia  re- 
treat and  make  a  raid  upon  a  shrike  that  was  impal- 
ing a  shrew-mouse  upon  a  thorn  in  a  neighboring  ti 
and  which  J  was  watching.  Failing  to  get  the  moo 
the  owl  returned  swiftly  to  his  cavity,  and  ever  Bince, 
while  going  that  way,  I  have  been  on  the  lookout  for 
b.im.  Dozens  of  teams  and  foot-passengers  pass  him 
late  in  the  day,  but  he  regards  them  not,  nor  they 
him.  When  I  come  alone  and  pause  to  salute  him, 
he  opens  his  eyes  a  little  wider,  and,  appearing  to 
recognize  me,  quickly  shrinks  and  fades  into  the  back- 
ground of  his  door  in  a  very  weird  and  curious 
manner.  When  he  is  not  at  his  outlook,  or  when  ho 
is,  it  requires  the  best  powers  of  the  eye  to  decide  the 
point,  as  the  empty  cavity  itself  is  almost  an  exact 
image  of  him.  If  the  whole  thing  had  been  carefully 
studied  it  could  not  have  answered  its  purpose  better. 
The  owl  stands  quite  perpendicular,  presenting  a  front 
of  light  mottled  gray;  the  eyes  are  closed  to  a  mere 
slit,  the  ear-feathers  depressed,  the  beak  buried  in  the 
plumage,  and  the  whole  attitude  is  one  of  silent, 
motionless  waiting  and  observation.  If  a  11101: 
should  be  seen  crossing  the  highway,  or  scudding  over 
any  exposed  part  of  the  snowy  surface  in  the  twilig 
the  owl  would  doubtless  r:\voop  down  upon  it.  1 
think  the  owl  has  learned  to  distinguish  me  from  tin 
rest  of  the  passers-by;  at  least,  when  I  stop  before 
him,  and  he  sees  himself  observed,  he  backs  down  into 
his  den,  as  I  have  said,  in  a  very  amusing  manner. 
Whether  bluebirds,  nut-hatches,  and  chickadees  — 
birds  that  pass  the  night  in  cavities  of  trees  —  ever 
run  into  the  clutches  of:  the  dozing  owl,  I  should  bo 
glad  to  know.     My  impression  is,  however,  that  they 


70  WINTER  NEIGHBORS. 

seek  out  smaller  cavities.  An  old  willow  by  the  roact 
side  blew  down  one  summer,  and  a  decayed  branch 
broke  open,  revealing  a  brood  of  half-fledged  owls, 
and  many  feathers  and  quills  of  bluebirds,  orioles,  and 
other  songsters,  showing  plainly  enough  why  all  birds 
lear  and  berate  the  owl. 

The  English  house  sparrows,  that  are  so  rapidlj 
Increasing  among  us,  and  that  must  add  greatly  to  the 
food  supply  of  the  owls  and  other  birds  of  prey,  seek 
to  baffle  their  enemies  by  roosting  in  the  densest  ever- 
greens  they  can  find,  in  the  arbor- vitae,  and  in  hem- 
lock hedges.  Soft-winged  as  the  owl  is,  he  cannot 
steal  in  upon  such  a  retreat  without  giving  them 
warning. 

These  sparrows  are  becoming  about  the  most  no- 
ticeable of  my  winter  neighbors,  and  a  troop  of  them 
every  morning  watch  me  put  out  the  hens'  feed,  and 
soon  claim  their  share.  I  rather  encouraged  them  in 
their  neighborliness,  till  one  day  I  discovered  the  snow 
under  a  favorite  plum-tree  where  they  most  frequently 
perched  covered  with  the  scales  of  the  fruit-buds.  On 
investigating  I  found  that  the  tree  had  been  nearly 
stripped  of  its  buds  —  a  very  unneighborly  act  on  the 
part  of  the  sparrows,  considering,  too,  all  the  cracked 
corn  I  had  scattered  for  them.  So  I  at  once  served 
notice  on  them  that  our  good  understanding  was  at 
an  end.  And  a  hint  is  as  good  as  a  kick  with  this 
brid.  The  stone  I  hurled  among  them,  and  the  one 
with  which  I  followed  them  up,  may  have  been  taken 
as  a  kick ;  but  they  were  only  a  hint  of  the  shot-gun 
that  stood  ready  in  the  corner.  The  sparrowrs  left  in 
high  dudgeon,  and  were  not  back  again  in  some  days, 
and  were  then  very  shy.  No  doubt  the  time  is  near 
at  iaand  when  we  shall  have  to  wage  serious  war  upoa 


WINTER  NEIGHBORS.  71 

these  sparrows,  as  they  long  have  had  to  do  on  I 
continent  of  Europe.     And  yet  it  will  be  hard  to  K 
the  little  wretches,  the  only  Old  World  bird  we  ha 
When  I  take  down  my  gun  to  shoot  them  I  shall  prob- 
ably remember  that  the  Psalmist  said,  k*  1  watch,  ai 
am  as  a  sparrow  alone  upon  the  house-top,"  and  mai 
be  the  recollection   will   cause  me  to  stay  my  Iran.. 
The  sparrows  have  the  Old  World  hardiness  and  pr< 
lificness;  they  are  wise  and  tenacious  of  life,  and 
shall  find  it  by  and  by  no  small  matter  to  keep  them 
in  check.     Our  native  birds  are  much  different,  ! 
prolific,  less    shrewd,   less   aggressive   and  persistent, 
less  quick-witted  and  able  to  read  the  note  of  danger 
or  hostility,  —  in  short,  less  sophisticated.     Most   of 
our  birds  are  yet  essentially  wild,  that  is,  little  chang 
by  civilization.     In  winter,  especially,  they  sweep  by 
me  and  around  me  in  flocks,  —  the  Canada  Bparrow, 
the  snow-bunting,  the  shore-laik,  the  pine  grosbeak. 
the    red-poll,  the  cedar-bird,  —  feeding    upon    fros 
apples  in  the  orchard,  upon  cedar-berries,  npon  ma- 
ple-buds, and  the  berries  of  the  mountain  ash,  and 
the  celtis,  and  upon  the  seeds  of  the  weeds  thai    l 
above   the   snow  in   the   field,  or   upon   the  ha\  » 
dropped  where  the  cattle  have  been  foddered  in  the 
barn-yard  or  about  the  distant  stack;  but  yet  tak. 
no  heed  cf  man,  in  no  way  changing  their  habit- 
as  to  take  advantage  of  his  presence  in  nature      The 
pine  grosbeak  will  come  in  numbers  upon  your  porch 
to  get  the  black  drupes  of  the  honeysuckle  or   I 
woodbine,  or  within  reach  of  your  windows  the 

berries  of  the  mountain-ash,  but  they  know  you  D 
they  look  at  you  as  innocently  and  unconcernedly 
at  a  bear  or   moose  in   their   native  north,   and    ^>ur 
house  is  no  more  to  them  than  a  ledge  of  rocks. 


72  WINTER  NEIGHBORS. 

The  only  ones  of  my  winter  neighbors  that  actually 
rap  at  my  door  are  the  nut-hatches  and  woodpeckers, 
and  these  do  not  know  that  it  is  my  door.  My  retreat 
is  covered  with  the  bark  of  young  chestnut-trees,  and 
the  birds,  I  suspect,  mistake  it  for  a  huge  stump  that 
ought  to  hold  fat  grubs  (there  is  not  even  a  book- 
worm inside  of  it),  and  their  loud  rapping  ofter. 
makes  me  think  I  have  a  caller  indeed.  I  place  frag- 
ments of  hickory-nuts  in  the  interstices  of  the  bark, 
and  thus  attract  the  nut-hatches ;  a  bone  upon  my 
window-sill  attracts  both  nut-hatches  and  the  downy 
woodpecker.  They  peep  in  curiously  through  the 
window  upon  me,  pecking  away  at  my  bone,  too  often 
a  very  poor  one.  A  bone  nailed  to  a  tree  a  few  feet 
in  front  of  the  window  attracts  crows  as  well  as  lesser 
birds.  Even  the  slate-colored  snow-bird,  a  seed-eater, 
comes  and  nibbles  it  occasionally. 

The  bird  that  seems  to  consider  he  has  the  best 
right  to  the  bone  both  upon  the  tree  and  upon  the  sill 
is  the  downy  woodpecker,  my  favorite  neighbor  among 
the  winter  birds,  to  whom  I  will  mainly  devote  the 
remainder  of  this  chapter.  His  retreat  is  but  a  few 
paces  from  my  own,  in  the  decayed  limb  of  an  apple- 
tree  which  he  excavated  several  autumns  ago.  I  say 
"  he ':*  because  the  red  plume  on  the  top  of  his  head 
proclaims  the  sex.  It  seems  not  to  be  generally  known 
to  our  writers  upon  ornithology  that  certain  of  out 
woodpeckers  —  probably  all  the  winter  residents  — 
each  fall  excavate  a  limb  or  the  trunk  of  a  tree  in  which 
to  pass  the  winter,  and  that  the  cavity  is  abandoned 
in  the  spring,  probably  for  a  new  one  in  which  nidifi- 
cation  takes  place.  So  far  as  I  have  observed,  these 
cavities  are  drilled  out  only  by  the  males.  Where  the 
females  take  up  their  quarters  I  am  not  so  well  ii> 


WINTER   NEIGHBORS.  73 

formed,  though  I  suspect  that  they  use  the  abandoned 
holes  of  the  males  of  the  previous  year. 

The  particular  woodpecker  to  which  I  refer  drilled 
his  first  hole  in  my  apple-tree  one  fall  four  or  live 
years  ago.  This  he  occupied  till  the  folio  win-  9]  mig, 
when  he  abandoued  it.  The  next  fall  he  began  a  b 
in  an  adjoining  limb,  later  than  before,  and  when  it 
was  about  half  completed  a  female  took  possession  of 
his  old  quarters.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  this  seen 
to  enrage  the  male  very  much,  and  he  persecuted  the 
poor  bird  whenever  she  appeared  upon  the  scene,  i  Ie 
would  fly  at  her  spitefully  and  drive  her  off.  One 
chilly  November  morning,  as  I  passed  under  the  tree, 
I  heard  the  hammer  of  the  little  architect  in  his  cav- 
ity, and  at  the  same  time  saw  the  persecuted  female 
sitting  at  the  entrance  of  the  other  hole  as  if  she  would 
fain  come  out.  She  was  actually  shivering,  probably 
from  both  fear  and  cold.  I  understood  the  situation 
at  a  glance;  the  bird  was  afraid  to  come  forth  and 
brave  the  anger  of  the  male.  Not  till  I  had  rapped 
smartly  upon  the  limb  with  my  stick  did  she  wine 
out  and  attempt  to  escape;  but  she  had  not  gone  too 
feet  from  the  tree  before  the  male  was  in  hot  pur- 
suit, and  in  a  few  moments  had  driven  her  back  to 
the  same  tree,  where  she  tried  to  avoid  him  among 
the  branches.  A  few  days  after,  he  rid  himself  of 
his  unwelcome  neighbor  in  the  following  ingenious 
manner :  he  fairly  scuttled  the  other  cavity  ;  he  drilled 
a  hole  into  the  bottom  of  it  that  let  in  the  light  and 
the  cold,  and  I  saw  the  female  there  no  more.  I  did 
not  see  him  in  the  act  of  rendering  this  tenement 
uninhabitable;  but  one  morning,  behold  it  was  punc- 
tured at  the  bottom,  and  the  circumstances  all  seemed 
to  point  to  him  as  the  author  of  it.    There  is  probably 


74  WINTER  NEIGHBORS. 

no  gallantry  among  the  birds  except  at  the  mating 
season.  I  have  frequently  seen  the  male  woodpecker 
drive  the  female  away  from  the  bone  upon  the  tree. 
When  she  hopped  around  to  the  other  end  and  timidly 
,  oibbled  it,  he  would  presently  dart  spitefully  at  her. 
She  would  then  take  up  her  position  in  his  rear  and 
wait  till  he  had  finished  hii  meal.  The  position  of 
the  female  amoDg  the  birds  is  very  much  the  same  as 
that  of  woman  among  savage  tribes.  Most  of  the 
drudgery  of  life  falls  upon  her,  and  the  leavings  of 
ihe  males  are  often  her  lot. 

My  bird  is  a  genuine  little  savage,  doubtless,  but  I 
value  him  as  a  neighbor.  It  is  a  satisfaction  during 
ihe  cold  or  stormy  winter  nights  to  know  he  is  warm 
and  cosy  there  in  his  retreat.  AVhen  the  day  is  bad 
and  unfit  to  be  abroad  in,  he  is  there  too.  When  I 
wish  to  know  if  he  is  at  home,  I  go  and  rap  upon  his 
tree,  and,  if  he  is  not  too  lazy  or  indifferent,  after 
some  delay  he  shows  his  head  in  his  round  doorway 
about  ten  feet  above,  and  looks  down  inquiringly  upon 
me  —  sometimes  latterly  I  think  half  resentfully,  as 
much  as  to  say,  u  I  would  thank  you  not  to  disturb  me 
so  often."  After  sundown,  he  will  not  put  his  head 
out  any  more  when  I  call,  but  as  I  step  away  I  can 
get  a  glimpse  of  him  inside  looking  cold  and  reserved; 
He  is  a  late  riser,  especially  if  it  is  a  cold  or  disagree- 
able morning,  in  this  respect  being  like  the  barn  fowls  ; 
it  is  sometimes  near  nine  o'clock  before  I  sec  him 
leave  his  tree.  On  the  other  hand,  he  comes  home 
early,  being  in  if  the  day  is  unpleasant  hy  four  p.  m. 
He  lives  all  alone  ;  in  this  respect  I  do  not  commend 
his  example.  Where  his  mate  is  I  should  like  to 
know. 

I  have  discovered  several  other  woodpeckers  in  aA 


WINTER   NEIGHBORS.  ft 

joining  orchards,  each  of  which  has  a  like  home  and 
leads  a  like  solitary  life.  One  of  them  has  excavat  I 
a  dry  limb  within  easy  reach  of  my  hand,  doing  the 
work  also  in  September.  But  the  choice  of  tree 
not  a  good  one  ;  the  limb  was  too  much  de 
one  workman  had  made  the  cavity  too  large;  :.  chip 
had  come  out,  making  a  hole  in  the  outer  wall. 
he  went  a  few  inches  down  the  limb  and  began  again* 
and  excavated  a  large,  commodious  chamber,  but  had 
again  come  too  near  the  surface :  scarcely  more  than 
the  bark  protected  him  in  one  place,  and  the  limb  \ 
very  much  weakened.  Then  he  made  another  attempt 
still  farther  down  the  limb,  and  drilled  in  an  inch 
or  two,  but  seemed,  to  change  his  mind;  the  work 
stopped,  and  I  concluded  the  bird  had  wisely  aban- 
doned the  tree.  Passing  there  one  cold,  rainy  Novem- 
ber day,  I  thrust  in  my  two  fingers  and  was  surprised 
to  feel  something  soft  and  warm :  as  I  drew  away  my 
hand  the  bird  came  out,  apparently  no  more  surprised 
than  I  was.  It  had  decided,  then,  to  make  its  home 
in  the  old  limb;  a  decision  it  had  occasion  to  regret, 
for  not  long  after,  on  a  stormy  night,  the  branch  gave 
way  and  fell  to  the  ground. 

"  When  the  bough  breaks  the  cradle  will  fall, 
And  down  will  conie  baby,  cradle  and  all." 

Such  a  cavity  makes  a  snug,  warm  home,  and  H  hen 

the  entrance  is  on  the  under  side  of  the  limb,  a& 
usual,  the  wind  and  snow  cannot  reach  the  occupant 
Late    in    December,   while   crossing  a  high,   wood 
nountain,  lured   by  the   music  of  fox-hounds.  1   « 
covered   fresh   yellow  chips  strewing  the   new-fallen 
snow,  and  at  once  though1-,  of  my  woodpeckers.     1  »:i 
booking  around  I  saw  where  one  had   been  ai    work 
excavating  a  lodge  in  a  small  yellow  birch.     Die  ori 


76  WINTER  NEIGHBORS. 

fice  was  about  fifteen  feet  from  the  ground,  and  ap. 
peared  as  round  as  if  struck  with  a  compass.  It  was 
on  the  east  side  of  the  tree,  so  as  to  avoid  the  prevail- 
ing west  and  northwest  winds.  As  it  was  nearly  two 
inches  in  diameter,  it  could  not  have  been  the  work  of 
the  downy,  but  must  have  been  that  of  the  hairy,  or 
else  the  yellow-bellied  woodpecker.  His  home  had 
(probably  been  wrecked  by  some  violent  wind,  and  he 
was  thus  providing  himself  another.  In  digging  out 
these  retreats  the  woodpeckers  prefer  a  dry,  brittle 
trunk,  not  too  soft.  They  go  in  horizontally  to  the 
centre  and  then  turn  downward,  enlarging  the  tunnel 
as  they  go,  till  when  finished  it  is  the  shape  of  a  long, 
deep  pear. 

Another  trait  our  woodpeckers  have  that  endears 
them  to  me,  and  that  has  never  been  pointedly  noticed 
by  our  ornithologists,  is  their  habit  of  drumming  in 
the  spring.  They  are  songless  birds,  and  yet  all  are 
musicians  ;  they  make  the  dry  limbs  eloquent  of  the 
coming  change.  Did  you  think  that  loud,  sonorous 
hammering  which  proceeded  from  the  orchard  or  from 
the  near  woods  on  that  still  March  or  April  morning 
was  only  some  bird  getting  its  breakfast  ?  It  is  downy, 
but  he  is  not  rapping  at  the  door  of  a  grub  ;  he  is  rap. 
ping  at  the  door  of  spring,  and  the  dry  limb  thrills 
beneath  the  ardor  of  his  blows.  Or,  later  in  the  sea= 
son,  in  the  dense  forest  or  by  some  remote  mountain 
lake,  does  that  measured  rhythmic  beat  that  breaks 
upon  the  silence,  first  three  strokes  following  each 
other  rapidly,  succeeded  by  two  louder  ones  with  longer 
intervals  between  them,  and  that  has  an  effect  upon 
the  alert  ear  as  if  the  solitude  itself  had  at  last  found  a 
voice  —  does  that  suggest  anything  less  than  a  delib- 
erate musical  performance  ?    In  fact,  our  woodpecker 


WINTER   NEIGHBORS.  77 

are  just  as  characteristically  drummers  as  is  the  ruffed 
grouse,  and  they  have  their  particular  limbs  and  st 
to  which  they  resort  for  that  purpose.     Their  need 
axpression  is  apparently  just  as  great  as  that  6f 
song-birds,  and  it  is  not  surprising  that  tins    should 
taave  found  out  that  there  is  music  in  a  dry,  reasoned 
^imb  which  can  be  evoked  beneath  their  beaks. 

A  few  seasons  ago  a  downy  woodpecker,  probably 
the  individual  one  who  is  now  my  winter  neighbor 
oegan  to  drum  early  in  March  in  a  partly  decayed 
apple-tree  that  stands  in  the  edge  of  a  narrow  strip  of 
woodland  near  me.  When  the  morning  was  still  and 
mild  I  would  often  hear  him  through  my  window  be- 
fore I  was  up,  or  by  half-past  six  o'clock,  and  he 
would  keep  it  up  pretty  briskly  till  nine  or  ten  o'clock, 
in  this  respect  resembling  the  grouse,  which  do  most 
of  their  drumming  in  the  forenoon.  His  drum  was 
the  stub  of  a  dry  limb  about  the  size  of  one's  wrist. 
The  heart  was  decayed  and  gone,  but  the  outer  shell 
was  hard  and  resonant.  The  bird  would  keep  his  po- 
sition there  for  an  hour  at  a  time.  Between  his  drum- 
mings  he  would  preen  his  plumage  and  listen  as  if  for 
fche  response  of  the  female,  or  for  the  drum  of  some 
rival.  How  swift  his  head  would  go  when  he  was 
delivering  his  blows  upon  the  limb!  His  beak  wore 
the  surface  perceptibly.  When  he  wished  to  chang 
the  key,  which  was  quite  often,  he  would  shift  his 
position  an  inch  or  two  to  a  knot  which  gave  out  a 
higher,  shriller  note.  When  I  climbed  up  to  examine 
his  drum  he  was  much  disturbed.  I  did  not  know  ho 
was  in  the  vicinity,  but  it  seems  he  saw  me  from  a 
near  tree,  and  came  in  haste  to  the  neighboring 
branches,  and  with  spread  plumage  and  a  sharp  note 
demanded  plainly  enough  what  my  business  was  w  ith 


Tb  WINTER  NEIGHBORS. 

his  drum.  I  was  invading  his  privacy,  desecrating 
his  shrine,  and  the  bird  was  much  put  out.  After 
some  weeks  the  female  appeared ;  he  had  literally 
drummed  up  a  mate ;  his  urgent  and  oft-repeated  ad- 
vertisement was  answered.  Still  the  drumming  die) 
not  cease,  but  was  quite  as  fervent  as  before.  If  a 
mate  could  be  won  by  drumming  she  could  be  kept 
and  entertained  by  more  drumming ;  courtship  should 
not  end  with  marriage.  If  the  bird  felt  musical  be 
fore,  of  course  he  felt  much  more  so  now.  Besides 
that,  the  gentle  deities  needed  propitiating  in  behalf 
of  the  nest  and  young  as  well  as  in  behalf  of  the  mate. 
After  a  time  a  second  female  came,  when  there  was 
war  between  the  two.  I  did  not  see  them  come  to 
blows,  but  I  saw  one  female  pursuing  the  other  about 
the  place,  and  giving  her  no  rest  for  several  days. 
She  was  evidently  trying  to  run  her  out  of  the  neigh- 
borhood. Now  and  then  she,  too,  would  drum  briefly, 
as  if  sending  a  triumphant  message  to  her  mate. 

The  woodpeckers  do  not  each  have  a  particular  dry 
limb  to  which  they  resort  at  all  times  to  drum,  like 
the  one  I  have  described.  The  woods  are  full  of 
suitable  branches,  and  thev  drum  more  or  less  here 
and  there  as  they  are  in  quest  of  food ;  yet  I  am  con- 
vinced each  one  has  its  favorite  spot,  like  the  grouse, 
to  which  it  resorts,  especially  in  the  morning.  The 
sugar-maker  in  the  maple-woods  may  notice  that  this 
sound  proceeds  from  the  same  tree  or  trees  about  his 
camp  with  great  regularity.  A  woodpecker  in  my  vi- 
cinity has  drummed  for  two  seasons  on  a  telegraph- 
pole,  and  he  makes  the  wires  and  glass  insulators  ring 
Another  drums  on  a  thin  board  on  the  end  of  a  long 
grape-arbor,  and  on  still  mornings  can  be  heard  o 
long  distance. 


WINTER   NEIGHBORS.  79 

A  friend  of  mine  in  a  Southern  city  tells  me  «•.    : 
yed-headed  woodpecker  that  drums  upon  a  lightnii 
rod  on  his  neighbor's  house.     Nearly  every  cleai 
morning  at  certain  seasons,  he  says,  this  musical  r 
ping  may  be  heard.     "  He  alternates  his  tapping 
his  stridulous  call,  and  the  effect  on  a  cool,  aul 
like  morning  is  very  pleasing." 

The  high-hole  appears  to  drum  more  promiscuously 
than  does  the  downy.  He  utters  his  long,  loud  Bpri 
call,  which  —  which  —  which  —  which,  and  then  '"• 
gins  to  rap  with  his  beak  upon  his  perch  before  the 
\ast  note  has  reached  your  ear.  I  have  Been  him 
drum  sitting  upon  the  ridge  of  the  barn.  The  Log 
cock,  or  pileated  woodpecker,  the  largest  and  wildest 
of  our  Northern  species,  I  have  never  heard  drum. 
His  blows  should  wake  the  echoes. 

When  the  woodpecker  is  searching  for  food,  or  lay- 
ing siege  to  some  hidden  grub,  the  sound  of  his  ham- 
mer is  dead  or  muffled,  and  is  heard  but  a  few  yards. 
It  is  only  upon  dry,  seasoned  timber,  freed  of  its  hark, 
that  he  beats  his  reveille  to  spring  and  wooes  his 
mate. 

Wilson    was    evidently   familiar   with    this   vernal 
drumming  of  the  woodpeckers,  but  quite  misinterpi 
it.     Speaking  of  the  red-bellied  species,  he  says:   ■ 
rattles  like  the  rest  of  the  tribe  on  the  dead  lin. 
and  with  such  violence  as  to  be  heard  in  still  weal 
more  than  half  a  mile  off;  and  listens  t«.  hear  ih< 
sect  it  has  alarmed."     He  listens  rather  to  hear  the 
drum  of  his  rival  or  the  brief  and  coy  response   of  the 
female;  for  there  are  no  insects  in  these  dry  limbs. 

On  one  occasion  I  saw  downy  at  his  drum  when  a 
female  flew  quickly  through  the  tree  and  alighted  a 
tew   yards  beyond  him.     He   paused    instantly,   and 


30  WINTER  NEIGHBORS. 

kept  hia  place,  apparently  without  moving  a  muscle. 
The  female,  I  took  it,  had  answered  his  advertisement. 
She  flitted  about  from  limb  to  limb  (the  female  may 
be  known  by  the  absence  of  the  crimson  spot  on  the 
back  of  the  head),  apparently  full  of  business  of  her 
own,  and  now  and  then  wrould  drum  in  a  shy,  tenta- 
tive manner.  The  male  watched  her  a  few  mo- 
ments, and,  conTinced  perhaps  that  she  meant  busi= 
ness,  struck  up  his  liveliest  tune,  then  listened  for  her 
response.  As  it  came  back  timidly  but  promptly,  he 
left  his  perch  and  sought  a  nearer  acquaintance  with 
the  prudent  female.  Whether  or  not  a  match  grew 
out  of  this  little  flirtation  I  cannot  sav. 

Our  smaller  woodpeckers  are  sometimes  accused  of 
injuring  the  apple  and  other  fruit  trees,  but  the  depre- 
dator is  probably  the  larger  and  rarer  yellow-bellied 
species.  One  autumn  I  caught  one  of  these  fellows  in 
the  act  of  sinking  long  rows  of  his  little  wells  in  the 
limb  of  an  apple-tree.  There  were  series  of  rings  of 
them,  one  above  another,  quite  around  the  stem,  some 
of  them  the  third  of  an  inch  across.  They  are  evi- 
dently made  to  get  at  the  tender,  juicy  bark,  or  cam- 
bium layer,  next  to  the  hard  wood  of  the  tree.  The 
health  and  vitality  of  the  branch  are  so  seriously  im- 
paired by  them  that  it  often  dies. 

In  the  following  winter  the  same  bird  (probably} 
tapped  a  maple-tree  in  front  of  my  window  in  fifty-sis. 
places ;  and  when  the  day  was  sunny,  and  the  sap 
oozed  out,  he  spent  most  of  his  time  there.  He  knew 
the  good  sap-days,  and  was  on  hand  promptly  for  his 
tipple  ;  cold  and  cloudy  days  he  did  not  appear.  He 
knew  which  side  of  the  tree  to  tap,  too,  and  avoided 
the  sunless  northern  exposure.  When  one  series  of 
well-holes  failed  to  supply  him,  he  would  sink  anotner, 


WINTER   NEIGHBORS.  81 

drilling  through  the  bark  with  great  ease  and  quick 
ness.  Then,  when  the  day  was  warm,  and  the  Bap  ran 
freely,  he  would  have  a  regular  sugar-maple  debauch, 
sitting  there  by  his  wells  hour  after  hour,  and  as  fast 
as  they  became  filled  sipping  out  the  sap.  This  he 
did  in  a  gentle,  caressing  manner  that  was  v» t\  e 
gestive.  He  made  a  row  of  wells  near  the  foot  of  the 
tree,  and  other  rows  higher  up,  and  he  would  hoi 
up  and  down  the  trunk  as  these  became  filled.  He 
would  hop  down  the  tree  backward  with  the  utmost 
ease,  throwing  his  tail  outward  and  his  head  inward  at 
each  hop.  When  the  wells  would  freeze  or  his  thirst 
become  slaked,  he  would  ruffle  his  feathers,  draw  him- 
self together,  and  sit  and  doze  in  the  sun  on  the  side.- 
of  the  tree.  He  passed  the  night  in  a  hole  in  an 
apple-tree  not  far  off.  He  was  evidently  a  young  bird, 
not  yet  having  the  plumage  of  the  mature  male  or  fe- 
male, and  yet  he  knew  which  tree  to  tap  and  where  to 
tap  it.  I  saw  where  he  had  bored  several  maples  in 
the  vicinity,  but  no  oaks  or  chestnuts.  I  nailed  op  a 
fat  bone  near  his  sap-works:  the  downy  woodpecker 
came  there  several  times  a  day  to  dine;  the  nut-hated 
came,  and  even  the  snow-bird  took  a  taste  occasion- 
ally ;  but  this  sap-sucker  never  touched  it;  the  sweet 
of  the  tree  sufficed  for  him.  This  woodpecker  does 
not  breed  or  abound  in  my  vicinity;  only  stray  speci* 
mens  are  now  and  then  to  be  met  with  in  the  c 
months.  As  spring  approached,  the  one  I  refer  tc 
took  his  departure. 

I  must  bring  my  account  of  my  neighbor  in  the  tree 
down  to  the  latest  date  ;  so  after  the  lapse  of  a  year  I 
add  the  following  notes.  The  last  day  of  February 
was  bright  and  springlike.     I  heard  the  first  sparrow 


82  WINTER   NEIGHBORS. 

sing  that  morning  and  the  first  screaming  of  the  eii> 
cling  hawks,  and  about  seven  o'clock  the  first  drui' 
ming  of  my  little  friend.  His  first  notes  were  uncer- 
tain and  at  long  intervals,  but  by  and  by  he  warmed 
up  and  beat  a  lively  tattoo.  As  the  season  advanced 
foe  ceased  to  lodge  in  his  old  quarters.  I  would  rap 
and  find  nobody  at  home.  Was  he  out  on  a  lark9 1 
said,  the  spring  fever  working  in  his  blood  ?  After  a 
time  his  drumming  grew  less  frequent,  and  finally,  in 
the  middle  of  April,  ceased  entirely.  Had  some  acci- 
dent befallen  him,  or  had  he  wandered  away  to  fresh 
fields,  following  some  siren  of  his  species  ?  Probably 
the  latter.  Another  bird  that  I  had  under  observa- 
tion also  left  his  winter-quarters  in  the  spring.  This, 
then,  appears  to  be  the  usual  custom.  The  wrens  and 
the  nut-hatches  and  chickadees  succeed  to  these  abaL. 
doned  cavities,  and  often  have  amusing  disputes  over 
them.  The  nut-hatches  frequently  pass  the  night  in 
them,  and  the  wrens  and  chickadees  nest  in  them.  I 
have  further  observed  that  in  excavating  a  cavity  for 
a  nest  the  downy  woodpecker  makes  the  entrance 
smaller  than  when  he  is  excavating  his  winter-quar- 
ters. This  is  doubtless  for  the  greater  safety  of  the 
young  birds. 

The  next  fall,  the  downy  excavated  another  limb  in 
the  old  apple-tree,  but  had  not  got  his  retreat  quite 
finished,  when  the  large  hairy  woodpecker  appeared 
upon  the  scene.  I  heard  his  loud  dick,  click,  early 
one  frosty  November  morning.  There  was  something 
impatient  and  angry  in  the  tone  that  arrested  my  at- 
tention. I  saw  the  bird  fly  to  the  tree  where  downy 
had  been  at  work,  and  fall  with  great  violence  upon 
the  entrance  to  his  cavity.  The  bark  and  the  chips 
flew  beneath  his  vigorous  blows,  and  before  I  fairly 


» 


WINTER  NEIGHBORS.  S3 

woke  up  to  what  lie  was  doing,  he  had  completelj  de- 
molished the  neat,  round  doorway  of  downy.  He  1 
made  a  large  ragged  opening  large  enough  for  himself 
to  enter.  I  drove  him  away  and  my  favorite  came 
back,  but  only  to  survey  the  ruins  of  his  castle  for  a 
moment  and  then  go  away.  He  lingered  about  for  a 
day  or  two  and  then  disappeared.  The  big  haiiy 
usurper  passed  a  night  in  the  cavity,  but  on  being  hus- 
tled out  of  it  the  next  night  by  me,  he  also  left,  but 
not  till  he  had  demolished  the  entrance  to  a  cavity  in 
a  neighboring  tree  where  downy  and  his  mate  had 
reared  their  brood  that  summer,  and  where  I  had 
Sloped  the  female  would  pass  the  winter. 


NOTES  BY  THE  WAY. 

I.    THE  WEATHER-WISE  MUSKRAT. 

I  AM  more  than  half  persuaded  that  the  muskrat 
is  a  wise  little  animal,  and  that  on  the  subject  of  the 
weather,  especially,  he  possesses  some  secret  that  1 
should  be  glad  to  know.    In  the  fall  of  1878  I  noticed 
that  he  built  unusually  high  and  massive  nests.     I 
noticed  them  in  several  different  localities.    In  a  shal- 
low, sluggish  pond  by  the  roadside,  which  I  used  to 
pass  daily  in  my  walk,  two  nests  were  in  process  of 
construction  throughout  the  month  of  November.  The 
builders  worked  only  at  night,  and  I  could  see  each 
day  that  the  work  had  visibly  advanced.    When  there 
was  a  slight  skim  of  ice  over  the  pond,  this  was  broken 
up  about  the  nests,  with  trails  through  it  in  different 
directions  where  the  material  had  been  brought.    The 
houses  were  placed  a  little  to  one  side  of  the  main 
channel,  and  were  constructed  entirely  of  a  species  of 
coarse  wild  grass  that  grew  all  about.     So  far  as  I 
could   see,  from  first  to  last  they  were  solid  masses 
of  grass,  as  if  the  interior  cavity  or  nest  was  to  be 
excavated  afterward,  as  doubtless  it  was.     As   they 
emerged  from  the  pond  they  gradually  assumed  the 
shape  of  a  miniature  mountain,  very  bold  and  steep 
on  the  south  side,  and  running  down  a  long  gentle 
grade  to  the  surface  of  the  water  on  the  north.     One 
could  see  that  the  little  architect  hauled  all  his  ma- 
terial up   this  easy  slope,  and   thrust   it  out   boldly 


THE  WEATHER-WISE  MUSKRAT. 

ground  the  other  side.  Every  mouthful  was  distinctly 
defined.  After  they  were  two  feet  or  more  above  tin- 
water,  I  expected  each  day  to  see  that  the  finishing 
stroke  had  been  given  and  the  work  brought  to  a 
close.  But  higher  yet,  said  the  builder.  December 
drew  near,  the  cold  became  threatening,  and  I  was 
apprehensive  that  win^r  would  suddenly  shut  down 
lapon  those  unfinished  nests.  But  the  wise  rats  knew 
better  than  I  did  ;  they  had  received  private  advices 
from  headquarters  that  I  knew  not  of.  Finally,  about 
the  6th  of  December,  the  nests  assumed  completion; 
the  northern  incline  was  absorbed  or  carried  up,  and 
each  structure  became  a  strong  massive  cone,  three  or 
four  feet  high,  the  largest  nest  of  the  kind  I  had  evei 
seen.  Does  it  mean  a  severe  winter  ?  I  inquired,  An 
old  farmer  said  it  meant  "high  water,"  and  he  was 
right  once,  at  least,  for  in  a  few  days  afterward  we 
had  the  heaviest  rainfall  known  in  this  section  for 
half  a  century.  The  creeks  rose  to  an  almost  unprece- 
dented height.  The  sluggish  pond  became  a  seething, 
turbulent  watercourse  ;  gradually  the  angry  element 
crept  up  the  sides  of  these  lake  dwellings,  till,  when 
the  rain  ceased,  about  four  o'clock  they  showed  above 
the  flood  no  larger  than  a  man's  hat.  During  the 
night  the  channel  shifted  till  the  main  current  swept 
over  them,  and  next  day  not  a  vestige  of  the  nests  wac 
to  be  seen;  they  had  gone  down-stream,  as  had  many 
other  dwellings  of  a  less  temporary  character.  The 
rats  had  built  wisely,  and  would  have  been  perfectly 
secure  against  any  ordinary  high  water,  but  who  can 
foresee  a  flood?  The  oldest  traditions  of  their  race 
did  not  run  back  to  the  time  of  such  a  visitation. 

Nearly    a    week    afterward    another    dwelling    f 
begun,  well  away  from  the  treacherous  channel,  but 


86  NOTES   BY   THE  WAY. 

the  architects  did  not  work  at  it  with  much  heart; 
the  material  was  very  scarce,  the  ice  hindered,  and  be- 
fore the  basement-story  was  fairly  finished,  winter  had 
the  pond  under  his  lock  and  key. 

In  other  localities  I  noticed  that  where  the  nests 
were  placed  on  the  banks  of  streams,  they  were  made 
secure  against  the  floods  by  feeing  built  amid  a  small 
©lump  of  bushes.  When  the  fall  of  1879  came,  the 
inuskrats  were  very  tardy  about  beginning  their  house, 
la}ring  the  corner-stone  —  or  the  corner-sod  —  about 
December  1st,  and  continuing  the  work  slowly  and 
indifferently.  On  the  15th  of  the  month  the  nest  was 
not  yet  finished.  This,  I  said,  indicates  a  mild  winter; 
and,  sure  enough,  the  season  was  one  of  the  mildest 
known  for  many  years.  The  rats  had  little  use  for 
their  house. 

Again,  in  the  fall  of  1880,  while  the  weather-wise 
were  wagging  their  heads,  some  forecasting  a  mild, 
some  a  severe  winter,  I  watched  with  interest  for  a 
sign  from  my  muskrats.  About  November  1st,  a  month 
earlier  than  the  previous  year,  they  began  their  nest, 
and  worked  at  it  with  a  will.  They  appeared  to  have 
just  got  tidings  of  what  was  coming.  If  I  had  taken 
the  hint  so  palpably  given,  my  celery  would  not  have 
been  frozen  in  the  ground,  and  my  apples  caught 
in  unprotected  places.  When  the  cold  wave  struck 
us,  about  November  20th,  my  four-legged  "  I-told-you- 
so's"  had  nearly  completed  their  dwelling  ;  it  lacked 
only  the  ridge-board,  so  to  speak ;  it  needed  a  little 
"topping  out,"  to  give  it  a  finished  look.  But  this 
it  never  got.  The  winter  had  come  to  stay,  and  il 
waxed  more  and  more  severe,  till  the  unprecedented 
cold  of  the  last  days  of  December  must  have  aston« 
Sshed  even  the  wise  muskrats  in  their  snug  retreat 


THE  WEATHER-WISE  MUSKRAT.  87 

I  approached  their  nest  at  this  time,  a  white  mound 
upon  the  white,  deeply  frozen  surface  of  the  pond,  and 
wondered  if  there  was  any  life  in  that  apparent 
ulchre.     I  thrust  my  walking-  -  stick  sharply  into   it, 
when  there  was  a  rustle  and  a  splash  into  the  wa 
as  the  occupant  made  his  escape.     What  a  damp  ba 
tenent  that  house  has,  I  thought,  and  what  a  pity  tc 
ijrout  a  peaceful  neighbor  out  of  his  bed  in  this  weather, 
and  into  such  a  state  of  things  as  this !   But  water  docs 
not  wet  the  muskrat ;  his  fur  is  charmed,  am1   not  a 
drop  penetrates  it.     Where  the  ground  is  favoral 
the  muskrats  do  not  build  these  mound-like  nests,  but 
burrow  into  the  hank  a  long  distance,  and  establish 
their  winter-quarters  there. 

Shall  we  not  say,  then,  in  view  of  the  above  facts, 
that  this  little  creature  is  weather-wise  ?  The  hitting 
of  the  mark  twice  might  be  mere  good  luck  ;  but  three 
bull's-eyes  in  succession  is  not  a  mere  coincidence  ;  it 
is  a  proof  of  skill.  The  muskrat  is  not  found  in  the 
Old  World,  which  is  a  little  singular,  as  other  rats  so 
abound  there,  and  as  those  slow-going  English  streams 
especially,  with  their  grassy  banks,  are  so  well  suited 
to  him.  The  water-rat  of  Europe  is  smaller,  but  <>f 
similar  nature  and  habits.  The  muskrat  does  c  I 
hibernate  like  some  rodents,  but  is  pretty  active  all 
winter.  In  December  I  noticed  in  my  walk  where 
they  had  made  excursions  of  a  few  yards  to  an  orchard 
for  frozen  apples.  One  day,  along  a  little  stream,  I 
saw  a  mink  track  amid  those  of  the  muskrat ;  follow- 
ing it  up,  I  presently  came  to  blood  and  other  marks 
of  strife  upon  the  snow  beside  a  stone  wall.     L«  | 

in  between  the  stones,  I  found  the  carcass  of  the  luck. 
less  rat,  with  its  head  and  neck  eaten  away.  The 
mink  had  made  a  meal  of  him. 


88  NOTES  BY  THE   WAY 


n.    CHEATING  THE  SQUIRRELS. 

For  the  largest  and  finest  chestnuts  I  had  last  fall 
I  was  indebted  to  the  gray  squirrels.    Walking  through 
the  early  October  woods  one  clay,  I  came  upon  a  place 
where  the  ground  was  thickly  strewn  with  very  large 
ainopened  chestnut  burs.     On    examination   I  found 
that  every  bur  had  been  cut  square  off  with  about  an 
inch  of  the  stem  adhering,  and  not  one  had  been  left 
on  the  tree.     It  was  not  accident,  then,  but  design. 
Whose  design?    The   squirrels'.     The  fruit  was  the 
finest  I  had  ever  seen  in  the  woods,  and  some  wise 
squirrel  had  marked  it  for  his  own.     The  burs  were 
ripe,  and  had  just  begun  to  divide,  not  "  threefold," 
but  fourfold,  "  to  show  the  fruit  within."     The  squir- 
rel that  had  taken  all  this  pains  had  evidently  rea- 
soned with  himself  thus  :    "  Now,  these  are  extremely 
fine  chestnuts,  and  I  want  them  ;  if  I  wait  till  the 
burs  open  on  the  tree  the  crows  and  jays  will  be  sure 
to  carry  off  a  great  many  of  the  nuts  before  they  fall ; 
then,   after  the   wind  has  rattled    out    what   remain, 
there  are  the  mice,  the  chipmunks,  the  red  squirrels, 
the  raccoons,  the  grouse,  to  say  nothing  of  the  boys 
and  the  pigs,  to  come  in  for  their  share  ;  so  I  will 
forestall  events  a  little ;  I  will  cut  off  the  burs  when 
they  have  matured,  and  a  few  days  of  this  dry  Octo* 
ber  weather  will  cause  every  one  of  them  to  open  on 
the  ground  ;  I  shall  be  on  hand  in  the  nick  of  time  to 
gather  up  my  nuts."     The  squirrel,  of  course,  had  to 
take  the  chances  of    a  prowler  like   myself   coming 
along,  but  he  had  fairly  stolen  a  march  on  his  neigh- 
bors.    As  I  proceeded  to  collect  and  open  the  burs,  1 
Was  half  prepared  to  hear  an  audible  protest  from  the 


FOX  AND  HOUND.  89 

trees  about,  for  I  constantly  fancied  myself  watched 
by  shy  but  jealous  eyes.     It  is  an  interesting  inquiry 
how  the  squirrel  knew  the  burs  would  open  if  lef( 
lie  on  the  ground  a  few  days.     Perhaps  he  did  not 
know,  but  thought  the  experiment  worth  trying. 

The  gray  squirrel  is  peculiarly  an  American   prod 
uct,  and  might  serve  very  well  as  a  national  emblem 
The  Old  World  can  beat  us  on  rats  and  mice,  but  we 
are  far  ahead  on  squirrels,  having  five  or  six  species 
to  Europe's  one. 


III.  FOX  AND  HOUND. 

I  STOOD  on  a  high  hill  or  ridge  one  autumn  day 
and  saw  a  hound  run  a  fox  through  the  fields  far  be- 
neath  me.  AVhat  odors  that  fox  must  have  shaken 
out  of  himself,  I  thought,  to  be  traced  thus  easily,  and 
how  great  their  specific  gravity  not  to  have  been 
blown  away  like  smoke  by  the  breeze !  The  fox  ran 
a  long  distance  down  the  hill,  keeping  within  a  few- 
feet  of  a  stone  wall ;  then  turned  a  right  angle  and 
led  off  for  the  mountain,  across  a  plowed  field  and  a 
succession  of  pasture  lands.  In  about  fifteen  minutes 
the  hound  came  in  full  blast  with  her  nose  in  the  air, 
and  never  once  did  she  put  it  to  the  ground  while  in 
my  sight.  When  she  came  to  the  stone  wall  she  took 
the  other  side  from  that  taken  by  the  fox,  idd  kept 
about  the  same  distance  from  it,  being  thus  separated 
several  yards  from  his  track,  with,  the  fence  bet  wren 
her  and  it.  At  the  point  where  the  fox  turned 
sharply  to  the  left,  the  hound  overshot  a  few  yards, 
then  wheeled,  and  feeling  the  air  a  moment  with  her 
nose,  took  up  the  scent  again  and  was  off  on  his  trail 


90  NOTES  BY   THE  WAY. 

as  unerringly  as  fate.  It  seemed  as  if  the  fox  must 
have  sowed  himself  broadcast  as  he  went  along,  and 
that  his  scent  was  so  rank  and  heavy  that  it  settled 
in  the  hollows  and  clung  tenaciously  to  the  bushes 
and  crevices  in  the  fence.  I  thought  I  ought  to  have 
caught  a  remnant  of  it  as  I  passed  that  way  some 
minutes  later,  but  I  did  not.  But  I  suppose  it  was 
rsot  that  the  light-footed  fox  so  impressed  himself 
upon  the  ground  he  ran  over,  but  that  the  sense  of 
the  hound  was  so  keen.  To  her  sensitive  nose  these 
tracks  steamed  like  hot  cakes,  and  they  would  not 
have  cooled  off  so  as  to  be  undistinguishable  for  sev- 
eral hours.  For  the  time  being  she  had  but  one 
sense :  her  whole  soul  was  concentrated  in  her  nose. 

It  is  amusing  when  the  hunter  starts  out  of  a  win- 
ter morning  to  see  his  hound  probe  the  old  tracks  to 
determiue  how  recent  they  are.  He  sinks  his  nose 
down  deep  in  the  snow  so  as  to  exclude  the  air  from 
above,  then  draws  a  long  full  breath,  giving  some- 
times an  audible  snort.  If  there  remains  the  least 
effluvium  of  the  fox  the  hound  will  detect  it.  If  it  be 
very  slight  it  only  sets  his  tail  wagging ;  if  it  be 
strong  it  unloosens  his  tongue. 

Such  things  remind  one  of  the  waste,  the  friction 
that  is  going  on  all  about  us,  even  when  the  wheels  of 
life  run  the  most  smoothly.  A  fox  cannot  trip  along 
the  top  of  a  stone  wall  so  lightly  but  that  he  will  leave 
enough  of  himself  to  betray  his  course  to  the  hound 
for  hours  afterward.  When  the  boys  play  "  hare  and 
hounds  "  the  hare  scatters  bits  of  paper  to  give  a  clew 
to  the  pursuers,  but  he  scatters  himself  much  more 
freely  if  only  our  sight  and  scent  were  sharp  enough 
to  detect  the  fragments.  Even  the  fish  leave  a  traii 
in  the  water,  and  it  is  said  the  otter  will  pursue  them 


FOX  AND  HOUND.  "1 

by  it.     The  birds  make  a  track  in  the  air,  only  theil 
enemies  hunt  by  sight  rather  than  by  scent.     The 
baffles  the  hound  most  upon  a  hard  crust  of  frozen 
snow;  the  scent  will  not  hold  to  the  smooth,  bead-like 
granules. 

Judged  by  the  eye  alone,  the  fox  is  the  lightest  and 
most  buoyant  creature  that  runs.  His  Boft  wrappi 
of  fur  conceals  the  muscular  play  and  effort  that  ifl  so 
obvious  in  the  hound  that  pursues  him,  and  he  comes 
bounding  along  precisely  as  if  blown  by  a  gentle  wind. 
His  massive  tail  is  carried  as  if  it  floated  upon  the  air 
by  its  own  lightness. 

The  hound  is  not  remarkable  for  his  fleetness.  but 
how  he  will  hang  !  —  often  running  late  into  the  night 
and  sometimes  till  morning,  from  ridge  to  ridge,  from 
peak  to  peak ;  now  on  the  mountain,  now  crossing  the 
valley,  now  playing  about  a  large  slope  of  nplying 
pasture  fields.  At  times  the  fox  has  a  pretty  well- 
defined  orbit,  and  the  hunter  knows  where  to  intercept 
him.  Again  he  leads  off  like  a  comet,  quite  beyond 
the  system  of  hills  and  ridges  upon  which  he  v 
started,  and  his  return  is  entirely  a  matter  of  conjec- 
ture;  but  if  the  day  be  not  more  than  half  spent,  the 
chances  are  that  the  fox  will  be  back  before  night* 

■ 

though  the  sportsman's  patience  seldom  holds  out  that 


The  hound  is  a  most  interesting  dog.     How  \\i> 

and  long-visaged  he  is  —  how  peaceful  and  well-dis- 
posed!    He  is  the  Quaker  among  dogs.     All  the  \i 
ciousness  and  currishness  seem  to  have  been  weeded 
out  of  him  ;  he  seldom  quarrels,  or  lights,  or  pla 
like  other  dogs.     Two  strange  hounds,  meeting 
the  first  time,  behave  as  civilly  toward  each  other  as 
two  men.     I  know  a  hound  that  has  au  ancient,  wriifc 


92  NOTES  BY  THE  WAY. 

kled,  human,  far-away  look  that  reminds  one  of  the 
bust  of  Homer  among  the  Elgin  marbles.  He  looks 
like  the  mountains  toward  which  his  heart  yearns  so 
much. 

The  hound  is  a  great  puzzle  to  the  farm  dog ;  the 
latter,  attracted   by  his   baying,  comes   barking  and 
snarling  up  through  the  fields  bent  on  picking  a  quar= 
rel;  he  intercepts  the  hound,  snubs  and  insults  and 
annoys   him   in  every  way  possible,  but   the   hound 
heeds  him  not ;  if  the  dog  attacks  him  he  gets  away 
as  best  he  can,  and  goes  on  with  the  trail ;  the  cur 
bristles  and  barks,  and  struts  about  for  a  while,  then 
goes  back  to  the  house,  evidently  thinking  the  hound 
a  lunatic  which  he  is  for  the  time  being  —  a  mono- 
maniac, the  slave  and  victim  of  one  idea.     I  saw  the 
master  of  a  hound  one  day  arrest  him  in  full  course, 
to  give  one  of  the  hunters  time  to  get  to  a  certain 
runaway  ;  the  dog  cried  and  struggled  to  free  himself 
and    would   listen    neither    to   threats    nor    caresses. 
Knowing  he  must  be  hungry,  I  offered  him  my  lunch, 
but  he  would  not  touch  it.     I  put  it  in  his  mouth,  but 
he  threw  it  contemptuously  from  him.     We  coaxed 
and   petted  and  reassured  him,  but  he  was  under  a 
spell ;  he  was  bereft  of  all  thought  or  desire  but  the 
one  passion  to  pursue  that  trail. 


IV.    THEWOODCHUCK 


Writers  upon  rural  England  and  her  familiar 
natural  history  make  no  mention  of  the  marmot  or 
woodchuck.  In  Europe  this  animal  seems  to  ba  con- 
fined to  the  high  mountainous   districts,  as  on  out 


THE   WOODCIIUCK. 

Pacific  slope,  burrowing  near  the  snow  line.  It  is 
more  social  or  gregarious  than  the  American 
living  in  large  families  like  our  prairie-do  In  the 
Middle  and  Eastern  States  our  woodchuck  takes  the 
place,  in  some  respects,  of  the  English  rabbit,  burrow- 
ing in  every  hillside  and  under  every  stone  wall  and 
jutting  ledge  and  large  bowlder,  from  winner  it  mat 
raids  upon  the  grass  and  clover  and  smin  times  upon 
the  garden  vegetables.  It  is  quite  solitary  in  fa 
habits,  seldom  more  than  one  inhabiting  the  Bame  den, 
unless  it  be  a  mother  and  her  young.  It  is  not  now 
so  much  a  wood  chuck  as  afield  chuck.  Occasionally, 
however,  one  seems  to  prefer  the  woods,  and  is  not 
seduced  by  the  sunny  slopes  and  the  succulent  grass, 
but  feeds,  as  did  his  fathers  before  him,  upon  roots 
and  twigs,  the  bark  of  young  trees,  and  upon  various 
wood  plants. 

One  summer  day,  as  I  was  swimming  across  ^ 
broad,  deep  pool  in  the  creek  in  a  secluded  place  in 
the  woods,  I  saw  one  of  these  sylvan  chucks  amid  the 
rocks  but  a  few  feet  from  the  edge  of  the  water  where 
I  proposed  to  touch.  He  saw  ray  approach,  but  doubt- 
less took  me  for  some  water-fowl,  or  for  some  cousin 
of  his  of  the  rauskrat  tribe  ;  for  he  went  on  with  hi- 
feeding,  and  regarded  me  not  till  I  paused  within  ten 
feet  of  him  and  lifted  myself  up.  Then  he  did  not 
know  me,  having,  perhaps,  never  seen  Adam  in  hif 
simplicity,  but  he  twisted  his  nose  around  to  eat  el  1  my 
scent ;  and  the  moment  he  had  done  so  he  sprang  like 
a  jumping-jack  and  rushed  into  his  den  with  the  ut- 
most precipitation. 

The  woodchuek  is  the  true  serf  among  our  animals  ; 
he  belongs  to  the  soil,  and  savors  of  it.  He  is  of  the 
earth,  earthy.    There  is  generally  a  decided  odor  about 


94  NOTES  BY  THE  WAY. 

his  dens  and  lurking-places,  but  it  is  not  at  all  di& 
agreeable  in  the  clover-scented  air,  and  bis  shrill 
whistle,  as  he  takes  to  his  hole  or  defies  the  farm  do<* 
from  the  interior  of  the  stone  wall,  is  a  pleasant  sum* 
mer  sound.  In  form  and  movement  the  woodchuck 
is  not  captivating.  His  body  is  heavy  and  flabby* 
Indeed,  such  a  flaccid,  fluid,  pouchy  carcass,  I  havfc 
aever  before  seen.  It  has  absolutely  no  muscular  ten* 
!§ion  or  rigidity,  but  is  as  baggy  and  shaky  as  a  skin 
filled  with  water.  Let  the  rifleman  shoot  one  while 
it  lies  basking  on  a  sidelong  rock,  and  its  body  slumps 
off,  and  rolls  and  spills  down  the  hill,  as  if  it  were  a 
mass  of  bowels  only.  The  legs  of  the  woodchuck  are 
short  and  stout,  and  made  for  digging  rather  than 
running.  The  latter  operation  he  performs  by  short 
leaps,  his  belly  scarcely  clearing  the  ground.  For  a 
short  distance  he  can  make  very  good  time,  but  he 
seldom  trusts  himself  far  from  his  hole,  and  when 
surprised  in  that  predicament,  makes  little  effort  to 
escape,  but,  grating  his  teeth,  looks  the  danger  squarely 
in  the  face. 

I  knew  a  farmer  in  New  York  who  had  a  very 
large  bob-tailed  churn-dog  by  the  name  of  Cuff.  The 
farmer  kept  a  large  dairy  and  made  a  great  deal  of 
'butter,  and  it  was  the  business  of  Cuff  to  spend  nearly 
the  half  of  each  summer  day  treading  the  endless 
!  round  of  the  churning-machine.  During  the  remainder 
of  the  day  he  had  plenty  of  time  to  sleep,  and  rest., 
and  sit  on  his  hips  and  survey  the  landscape.  One 
day,  sitting  thus,  he  discovered  a  woodchuck  about 
forty  rods  from  the  house,  on  a  steep  side-hill,  feeding 
about  near  his  hole,  which  was  beneath  a  large  rock. 
The  old  dog,  forgetting  his  stiffness,  and  remembering 
the  fun  he  had  had  with  woodchucks  in  his  earlier 


THE  WOODCUUCK. 

days,  started  off  at  his  highest  speed,  vainly  hoping  to 
catch  this  one   before  he  could  get  to  his  hole.      But 
the  woodchuck,  seeing  the  dog  come  laboring  up  1 
hill,  sprang  to  the  mouth  of  his  den,  and,   when    his 
pursuer  was  only  a  few  rods  off,  whistled  tauntin 
and  went  in.     This   occurred  several   times,  the   i 
dog  marching  up  the  hill,  and  then  marchii 
again,  having  had  his  labor  for  his  pains.     I  bus] 
that  he  revolved  the  subject  in  his  mind  while  he 
volved  the  great  wheel  of  the  churning-maehine,  and 
that  some  turn  or  other  brought  him  a  happy  thought, 
for  next  time  he  showed  himself  a  strategist.    Instead 
of   giving   chase    to   the    woodchuck   when   first   dis- 
covered, he  crouched  down  to  the  ground,  and,  resting 
his  head  on  his  paws,  watched  him.     The  woodchuck 
kept  working  away  from  the  hole,  lured  by  the  tendei 
clover,  but,  not   unmindful  of  his  safety,  lifted   hi  in- 
self  up  on  his  haunches  every  few  moments  and  sur- 
veyed the  approaches.    Presently,  after  the  woodchuck 
had  let  himself  down  from  one  of   these  attitudes  of 
observation,  and  resumed    his   feeding,   Cuff  star 
swiftly  but  stealthily  up  the  hill,  precisely  in  the  at- 
titude of  a  cat  when  she  is  stalking  a  bird.     When 
the  woodchuck  rose  up  again,  Cuff  was  perfectly  mo- 
tionless and  half  hid  by  the  grass.     When  he  I 
resumed  his  clover,  Cuff  sped  up  the  hill  as  before, 
this  time  crossing  a  fence,  but  in  a  low  place,  and 
nimbly  that  he  was  not  discovered.     Again  the  wo 
chuck  was  on  the  outlook,  again  Cuff  was  motionless 
and  hugging  the  ground.    As  the  dog  nears  his  vie 
he  is  partially  hidden  by  a  swell  in  the  earth,  but  stiil 
the  woodchuck  from  his  outlook  reports  "  all  right," 
when  Cuff,   having  not  twice    as    far  to   run   as  the 
'chuck,  throws  all  stealthiness   aside   ami    rushes  di- 


#6  NOTES  BY    THE  WAY. 

cectly  for  tlie  hole.  At  that  moment  the  woodcnuck 
discovers  his  danger,  and,  seeing  that  it  is  a  race  for 
life,  leaps  as  I  never  saw  marmot  leap  before.  But 
he  is  two  seconds  too  late,  his  retreat  is  cut  off,  and 
£he  powerful  jaws  of  the  old  dog  close  upon  him. 

The  next  season  Cuff  tried  the  same  tactics  again 
with  like  success  ;  but  when  the  third  woodchuck  had 
taken  up  his  abode  at  the  fatal  hole,  the  old  churner's 
wits  and  strength  had  begun  to  fail  him,  and  he  was 
baffled  in  each  attempt  to  capture  the  animal. 

The  woodchuck  always  burrows  on  a  side-hill.  This 
enables  him  to  guard  against  being  drowned  out,  by 
making  the  termination  of  the  hole  higher  than  the 
entrance.  He  digs  in  slantingly  for  about  two  or  three 
£eet,  then  makes  a  sharp  upward  turn  and  keeps  nearly 
parallel  with  the  surface  of  the  ground  for  a  distance 
of  eight  or  ten  feet  farther,  according  to  the  grade. 
Here  he  makes  his  nest  and  passes  the  winter,  holing 
up  in  October  or  November  and  coming  out  agam  in 
April.  This  is  a  long  sleep,  and  is  rendered  possible 
only  by  the  amount  of  fat  with  which  the  system  has 
become  stored  during  the  summer.  The  fire  of  life 
still  burns,  but  very  faintly  and  slowly,  as  with  the 
draughts  all  closed  and  the  ashes  heaped  up.  Res« 
piration  is  continued,  but  at  longer  intervals,  and  all 
the  vital  processes  are  nearly  at  a  standstill.  Dig  one 
out  during  hibernation  (Audubon  did  so),  and  you 
find  it  a  mere  inanimate  ball,  that  suffers  itself  to  be 
moved  and  rolled  about  without  showing  signs  of 
awakening.  But  bring  it  in  by  the  fire,  and  it  pres. 
ently  unrolls  and  opens  its  eyes,  and  crawls  feebly 
about,  and  if  left  to  itself  will  seek  some  dark  hole  or 
corner,  roll  itself  up  again,  and  resume  its  former  con* 
ditioD. 


• 


